CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Duncan had made three further attempts to talk to Graham Macfadyen, but he had steadfastly refused to budge on his demand to speak to Lawson, and Lawson only. He’d allowed Duncan to hear Davina’s cries, but that had been the single concession he’d made. Exasperated, Lawson decided he’d had enough.
“Time’s rolling on. The baby’s distressed, we’ve got the media breathing down our necks. Give me the phone. I’m doing the talking now,” he said.
Duncan took one look at his boss’s flushed face and handed over the receiver. “I’ll help you keep it on track,” he said.
Lawson made the connection. “Graham? It’s me. James Lawson. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get here. I understand you want to talk to me?”
“Damn right I want to talk to you. But before we get into it, I should tell you that I’m recording this. As we speak, it’s going out live via a webcast. The media have all got the URL, so they’re probably hanging on our every word as we speak. There’s no point in trying to close down the site, by the way. I’ve got it set up to jump from server to server. Before you can even find where it’s coming from, it’ll be somewhere else.”
“There’s no need for this, Graham.”
“There’s every need. You thought you could close me down by cutting the phone lines, but you think like last century’s man. I’m the future, Lawson, and you’re history.”
“How’s the baby?”
“Pain in the arse, actually. It just cries all the time. It’s doing my head in. But it’s fine. So far, anyway. It’s come to no harm yet.”
“You’re harming her just by keeping her from her mother.”
“It’s not my fault. It’s Alex Gilbey’s fault. Him and his friends, they kept me from my mother. They murdered her. Alex Gilbey, Tom Mackie, David Kerr and Sigmund Malkiewicz murdered my mother, Rosie Duff, on 16 December 1978. First they raped her and then they murdered her. And Fife Police never charged them with the crime.”
“Graham,” Lawson interrupted, “that’s in the past. What we’re concerned about now is the future. Your future. And the sooner we end this, the better your future will be.”
“Don’t talk to me as if I’m stupid, Lawson. I know I’m going to be sent to prison for this. It doesn’t make any odds whether I give up my hostage or not. Nothing’s going to change that, so don’t insult my intelligence. I’ve got nothing left to lose, but I can make damn sure that other people take a hit, too. Now, where was I? Oh yes. My mother’s murderers. You never charged them. And when you reopened the case recently, with a big fanfare of trumpets about how DNA would solve old crimes, you found you’d lost the evidence. How could you do that? How could you lose something so important?”
“We’re losing control,” Duncan whispered. “He’s calling the baby, ‘it.’ That’s not good. Get back to the baby.”
“Kidnapping Davina isn’t going to change that, Graham.”
“It’s stopped you sweeping my mother’s murder under the carpet. Now the whole world’s going to know what you’ve done.”
“Graham, I’m as committed as I could be to dealing with whoever killed your mother.”
A hysterical laugh crackled down the line. “Oh, I know that. I just don’t believe in your way of dealing with them. I want them to suffer in this world, not the next. They’re dying like heroes. What they really were is being swept under the carpet. That’s what comes of doing it your way.”
“Graham, we need to talk about your situation as it is now. Davina needs her mother. Why don’t you bring her out now and we’ll talk about your complaints. I promise we’ll listen.”
“Are you crazy? This is the only way to get your attention, Lawson. And I plan to make the most of it before this is over.” The call ended abruptly with the crashing down of the phone at the other end.
Duncan tried to hide his frustration. “Well, at least we know now what’s eating him.”
“He’s off his head. We can’t negotiate with him if he’s broadcasting it to the world. Who knows what crazy allegations he’s going to come up with next? The man should be sectioned, not humored.” Lawson slammed his hand against the side of the van.
“Before we can do that, we need to get him and the baby out of there.”
“Fuck that,” Lawson said. “It’ll be dark in an hour. We’ll storm the place.”
Duncan looked stunned. “Sir, that’s way outside the rules of engagement.”
“So is kidnapping a baby,” Lawson called over his shoulder as he stalked back to his car. “I’m not standing by while a child’s life is at risk.”
Alex hit the track with an overwhelming sense of relief. There had been a couple of moments when he’d seriously doubted he’d ever get out of the field without a tractor. But he’d made it. He picked up his phone, planning to call Jason and tell him he was on his way with something very interesting. No signal. Alex tutted and drove carefully up the rutted lane toward the main road.
As he neared Kinross, his phone rang. He grabbed it. Four messages. He thumbed the keys and summoned them. The first was from Weird, a terse message telling him to call home as soon as he picked it up. The second was also from Weird, passing on a mobile number. The fourth and fifth were from journalists asking him to return their calls.
What the hell was going on? Alex pulled into a pub car park on the outskirts of the town and called Weird’s number. “Alex? Thank the Lord,” Weird gasped. “You’re not driving, are you?”
“No, I’m parked up. What’s going on? I’ve got these messages…”
“Alex, you have to be calm.”
“What is it? Davina? Lynn? What’s happened?”
“Alex, something bad has happened. But everybody’s OK.”
“Weird, just fucking tell me,” Alex roared, panic thudding in his chest.
“Macfadyen has taken Davina,” he said, speaking slowly and clearly. “He’s holding her hostage. But she’s OK. He hasn’t hurt her.”
Alex felt as if someone had reached inside his body and ripped his heart out. All the love he’d discovered in himself seemed to transmute into a mixture of fear and rage. “What about Lynn? Where is she?” he choked out
“She’s here with us, outside Macfadyen’s house in St. Monans. Hang on, I’ll let you speak to her.” A moment passed, then he heard a forlorn shadow of Lynn’s voice.
“Where have you been, Alex? He stole Davina. He took our baby, Alex.” He could hear the tears hovering beneath the hoarseness.
“I was in a black spot. No reception. Lynn, I’m coming. Hold on. Don’t let them do anything. I’m coming, and I know something that’ll change everything. Don’t let them do anything, you hear? It’s going to be all right. You hear? It’s going to be OK. Put Weird back on, please?” As he spoke, he was starting the engine and pulling out of the car park.
“Alex?” He could hear the strain in Weird’s voice. “How soon can you be here?”
“I’m in Kinross. Forty minutes? Weird, I know the truth. I know what happened to Rosie and I can prove it. When Macfadyen hears this, he’ll understand he doesn’t need to take any more revenge. You’ve got to stop them doing anything that puts Davina at risk until I can tell him what I know. This is dynamite.”
“I’ll do my best. But they’ve got us shut away from the action.”
“Whatever it takes, Weird, do it. And look after Lynn for me, please?”
“Of course. Get here fast as you can, eh? God bless you.”
Alex jammed his foot to the floor and drove as he’d never driven. He almost wished to be stopped for speeding. That way he’d get a police escort. Blues and twos all the way to the East Neuk. That was what he needed right now.
Lawson looked around the church hall they’d commandeered. “The technical support team can identify which rooms Macfadyen and the baby are in. So far, he’s spent most of his time in a room at the back of the house. The baby is sometimes with him and sometimes in the front room. So it should be straightforward. We wait till they’re separated, then one team goes in the front and gets the baby. The other team goes in the back and closes down Macfadyen.
“We wait till it’s dark. The streetlights will be off. He won’t be able to see a damn thing. I want this to go like clockwork. I want that baby out of there alive and unharmed.
“Macfadyen is another matter. He’s mentally unstable. We have no idea whether he is armed or not. We have reason to believe he has already killed twice. Only last night, he is believed to have committed a serious assault. If he hadn’t been disturbed then, it’s my belief he would have killed again. He said himself he has nothing left to lose. If he shows any sign of reaching for a weapon, I am authorizing you to open fire. Does anyone have any questions?”
The room was silent. The officers in the armed-response group had honed their skills for an operation like this. The room had become a vessel for testosterone and adrenaline. This was the moment when fear was given another name.
Macfadyen tapped the keys and clicked his mouse. The connection over the mobile phone was abominably slow, but he’d managed to upload his conversation with Lawson to the Web site now. He sent out a follow-up e-mail to the news outlets he’d contacted earlier, telling them they could get a front-row seat at the siege by linking to his site, where they could hear for themselves what was going on.
He was under no illusion that he could control the outcome. But he was determined to stage-manage what he could, and to do whatever was necessary to make this front-page news. If that cost the baby’s life, so be it. He was ready. He could do it, he knew he could. No matter whether it meant his name would be synonymous with evil in the tabloids. He wasn’t going to come out of this as the only bad guy. Even if Lawson had called for a news blackout, the information was out there now, in the wild. He couldn’t gag the Internet, couldn’t stop those facts spawning. And Lawson must know by now that Macfadyen had an ace in the hole.
Next time they called, he’d lay it out. He’d reveal the full extent of the police duplicity. He’d tell the world how low justice had stooped in Scotland.
It was judgment day.
Alex was halted at a police roadblock. He could see the massed emergency vehicles ahead, could just make out the red-and-white barriers at the mouth of Carlton Way. He rolled down the window, aware that he looked filthy and disheveled. “I’m the father,” he told the police officer who leaned down to speak to him. “It’s my baby in there. My wife’s here somewhere, I need to be with her.”
“Have you got some ID, sir?” the constable asked.
Alex produced his driving license. “I’m Alex Gilbey. Please, let me through.”
The constable compared his face to the picture on the license, then turned away to speak into his radio. He came back a moment later. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gilbey. We have to be careful. If you’d just park on the verge there, one of the officers will take you to your wife.”
Alex followed another yellow-jacketed officer to a white minibus. He opened the door and Lynn leaped out of her seat, falling into his arms on the steps. Her body was trembling and he could feel her heart thudding against him. There were no words for what ailed them. They simply clung to each other, their anguish and fear palpable.
For a long time, no one spoke. Then Alex said, “It’s going to be OK. I can end this now.”
Lynn looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. “How, Alex? You can’t fix this.”
“I can, Lynn. I know the truth now.” He looked over her shoulder and saw Karen Pirie sitting by the door, next to Weird. “Where’s Lawson?”
“He’s at a briefing,” Lynn said. “He’ll be back soon. You can talk to him then.”
Alex shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to him. I want to talk to Macfadyen.”
“That won’t be possible, Mr. Gilbey. It’s being dealt with by trained negotiators. They know what they’re doing.”
“You don’t understand. There are things he needs to hear that only I can tell him. I don’t want to threaten him. I don’t even want to plead with him. I just need to tell him something.”
Karen sighed. “I know you’re very upset, Mr. Gilbey. But you could do a lot of harm thinking you’re doing good.”
Alex gently disengaged himself from Lynn’s arms. “This is about Rosie Duff, right? This is happening because he thinks I had something to do with Rosie Duff’s murder, isn’t it?”
“That would appear to be the case, sir.” Karen spoke cautiously.
“What if I told you that I can answer his questions?”
“If you have information pertaining to the case, I’m the one you should be talking to.”
“All in good time, I promise. But Graham Macfadyen deserves to be the first to hear the truth. Please. Trust me. I’ve got my reasons. It’s my daughter’s life that’s at stake here. If you won’t let me talk to Macfadyen, I’m walking away from here and telling the press what I know. And believe me, you don’t want me to do it that way.”
Karen weighed up the situation. Gilbey seemed calm. Almost too calm. She wasn’t trained in dealing with situations like this. Normally, she’d pass it up the line. But Lawson was busy elsewhere. Maybe the person to deal with this was the hostage negotiator. “Let’s go and talk to Inspector Duncan. He’s been speaking to Macfadyen.”
She climbed out of the van and called one of the uniformed officers over. “Please stay with Mrs. Gilbey and Mr. Mackie.”
“I’m going with Alex,” Lynn said mutinously. “I’m not leaving his side.”
Alex took her hand. “We go together,” he said to Karen.
She knew when she was beaten. “OK, let’s go,” she said, leading the way toward the cordon that blocked the entrance to Macfadyen’s street.
Alex had never felt so alive. He was conscious of the movements of his muscles with every step he took. His senses seemed heightened, every sound and smell amplified almost beyond bearing. He would never forget this short walk. This was the most important moment of his life and he was determined to do the right thing, the right way. He’d rehearsed the conversation on his helter-skelter drive to St. Monans and he was sure he’d found the words to win his daughter’s freedom.
Karen brought them to a white van parked outside the familiar house. In the gathering dusk, everything seemed overlaid with gloom, reflecting the spirits of those involved in the siege. Karen banged on the side of the van and the door slid open. John Duncan’s head appeared in the gap. “DC Pirie, isn’t it? What can I do for you?”
“This is Mr. and Mrs. Gilbey. He wants to speak to Macfadyen, sir.”
Duncan’s eyebrows rose in alarm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The only person Macfadyen wants to speak to is ACC Lawson. And he’s given orders for no more calls till he gets back.”
“He needs to hear what I have to say,” Alex said heavily. “He’s doing this because he wants the world to know who killed his mother. He thinks it was me and my friends. But he’s wrong. I found out the truth today and he should be the first person to hear it.”
Duncan failed to hide his astonishment. “You’re saying you know who killed Rosie Duff?”
“I do.”
“Then you should be making a statement to one of our officers,” he said firmly.
A tremor of emotion flickered across Alex’s face, betraying how tightly he was holding himself in. “That’s my daughter in there. I can end this now. Every minute you delay letting me talk to him is a minute when she’s at risk. I’m not talking to anybody but Macfadyen. And if you won’t let me talk to him, I’m going to the press. I’m going to tell them I have the means to finish this siege and you won’t let me use them. Do you really want that to be your professional epitaph?”
“You don’t know what you’re doing here. You’re not a trained negotiator.” Alex could tell it was Duncan’s last throw of the dice.
“All your training doesn’t seem to have done you much good, does it?” Lynn interjected. “Alex spends all his working life negotiating with people. He’s very good at it. Let him try. We’ll take full responsibility for the outcome.”
Duncan looked at Karen. She shrugged. He took a deep breath and sighed. “I’ll be listening in,” he said. “If I think the situation is getting out of control, I’ll end the call.”
Relief made Alex dizzy. “Fine. Let’s do it,” he said.
Duncan brought out the phone and clamped headphones over his ears. He handed a pair to Karen and the receiver to Alex. “It’s all yours.”
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Halfway through the fourth ring, it was picked up. “Back for more, Lawson?” the voice on the other end said.
He sounded so ordinary, Alex thought. Not like a man who would kidnap a baby and dangle its life in the balance. “This isn’t Lawson. This is Alex Gilbey.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you, you murdering bastard.”
“Give me a minute of your time. I’ve got something to tell you.”
“If you’re going to deny you killed my mother, save your breath. I won’t believe you.”
“I know who killed your mother, Graham. And I have proof. It’s here in my pocket. I’ve got paint flakes that match the paint on your mother’s clothes. I took them this afternoon from a caravan by Loch Leven.” No response other than a sharp intake of breath. Alex soldiered on. “There was someone else there that night. Someone nobody paid any attention to because he had a reason to be there. Someone who met your mother after work and took her back to his caravan. I don’t know what happened, but I suspect she probably refused to have sex with him and he raped her. When he came to his senses, he realized he couldn’t let her go to tell her tale. It would be the end of everything for him. So he stabbed her. And he took her up to Hallow Hill and left her there to die. And nobody ever suspected him because he was on the side of the law.” Karen Pirie was staring at him now, open-mouthed and horror-struck as she grasped the implications of what he was saying.
“Say his name,” Macfadyen whispered.
“Jimmy Lawson. It was Jimmy Lawson who murdered your mother, Graham. Not me.”
“Lawson?” It was almost a sob. “This is a trick, Gilbey.”
“No trick, Graham. Like I said, I’ve got proof. What have you got to lose by believing me? End this now, you get the chance to see justice done at last.”
There was a long silence. Duncan edged forward, poised to take the phone from Alex. Alex deliberately turned away, gripping the handset tighter. Then Macfadyen spoke.
“I thought he was doing it because it was the only way of getting some kind of justice. And I didn’t want it his way because I wanted you to suffer. But he was doing it to cover his back,” Macfadyen said, his words meaning nothing to a bewildered Alex.
“Doing what?” Alex said.
“Killing you guys.”