The Complaints

‘Back of the van,’ Vass muttered.

‘I didn’t catch that,’ Fox complained.

‘Terry took one of the vans down to Edinburgh,’ Wauchope explained. ‘You didn’t really mean for him to die, did you, Terry? You just thought you were putting him in hospital.’

Fox didn’t bother checking Vass’s reaction. ‘Where do I come in?’ he asked instead.

‘You don’t,’ Wauchope said with a shrug. ‘Not as far as I’m concerned. ’

‘I was under surveillance… then I got put on to DS Breck’s case. No coincidence.’

‘Nothing to do with me.’

‘I need more than that,’ Fox said.

‘There isn’t any more than that!’ Wauchope slapped his palm against the surface of the table.

‘Then you need to ask another favour from Traynor – because if you really don’t know, maybe he does.’

Wauchope wagged a finger. ‘No more favours till I’ve got my hands on Charlie Brogan.’

The two men stared at one another.

‘I hand him over,’ Fox guessed, ‘and you rip him to pieces in front of an invited audience?’

‘That’s the deal we had.’

Fox turned towards Breck. ‘You were right,’ he said. ‘We folded when we should have raised.’

‘We can still raise,’ Breck commented.

‘Not if you want to leave here without the help of paramedics,’ Wauchope growled. ‘Fun’s over – all I want from you now is the address.’

Fox drew a beer mat towards himself and took out a pen. ‘It’s quarter to twelve now,’ he said. ‘It’s going to take you an hour and a bit to get to Edinburgh. At half past one, my pal walks out of the house. Once he’s gone, you can go in whenever you like.’ He had written down an address. He pushed the mat in Wauchope’s direction.

‘And if this is all a ruse?’ the gangster asked.

‘Come and get us,’ Fox answered with a shrug. Wauchope slid a fingernail under the mat and lifted it to peer at the address.

‘Is this a joke?’ he asked.

‘No joke,’ Fox assured him, tucking the pen back into his pocket. ‘There are dozens of finished properties still on the books at Salamander Point. Some of them are even furnished – an enticement to buy, I suppose.’

Wauchope was staring past Fox towards Terry Vass. ‘First place we should have looked,’ he rasped.

‘You’re cleverer than Breck and me, then,’ Fox stated. ‘It was number three or four on our list.’ He paused. ‘Are we done here?’

Wauchope fixed him with another long, cold stare. Breck was unplugging the laptop and shutting it down.

‘We’re done,’ the gangster eventually said. And then: ‘Terry, go fetch the van…’

30

Fox and Breck drove back to Edinburgh at speed and with Breck on his phone for most of the way. Their destination was Police HQ at Fettes. Tony Kaye’s Nissan was parked outside the main entrance. Fox pulled up next to him and got out, Breck following suit. Kaye came to meet them, while Charles Brogan stayed in the Nissan’s passenger seat.

‘He all right?’ Fox asked.

‘Scared shitless,’ Kaye answered with a smile.

‘He heard the whole thing?’

‘Clear as a bell.’

‘So he’s convinced it’s us or nothing?’

‘He’s convinced. Doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.’

‘He did well, though,’ Jamie Breck said. ‘If Wauchope had screamed at me like that, I’d have started ru

‘I kept the volume low,’ Kaye explained. ‘And there was a bit of prep beforehand…’

Breck had bent a little at the knees so he could give Brogan a thumbs-up sign, while Brogan resolutely ignored him.

‘Have you tried playing it back?’ Fox was asking Kaye.

‘It’s fine – sound and vision, and copied on to an external hard drive, date- and time-stamped.’

‘What would we have done if he’d spotted the camera?’ Breck asked Fox.

‘Told him the truth,’ Fox replied. ‘It’s built into the laptop, meaning there’s nothing to be done about it.’

‘He’d have wanted it covered up.’

‘We’d still have the audio.’ Fox looked to Kaye for confirmation. Kaye nodded back at him and Fox patted his friend’s arm. Truth to tell, he’d harboured doubts about Tony Kaye, had even wondered for a time if Kaye might have been got at. He felt a little bad about that… but not too bad.

Fox’s phone rang and he answered it. It was Bob McEwan, letting them know the squad was in position at Salamander Point.

‘The van’s got to go to Forensics,’ Fox reminded him. ‘Could well be the same one they used with Vince Faulkner.’

‘Relax, Malcolm,’ McEwan said, ending the call.

‘He says we should relax,’ Fox informed Breck and Kaye.

‘Want to go watch the fun?’ Breck asked. Fox checked his watch.

‘If they catch so much as a glimpse of us,’ he warned, ‘they’ll know something’s up.’

‘What about our resident scaredy-cat?’ Kaye gestured towards Brogan.

‘We keep him at HQ for the interview – I’d hate for him to have an “accident”.’

‘You’re saying Leith’s not safe?’

‘Is anywhere?’ Fox asked, sounding deadly serious.

It was another five minutes before the surveillance vehicle arrived, driven by Joe Naysmith and with Gilchrist as his passenger. Fox hauled open the driver’s-side door.

‘Well?’ he asked.

Naysmith jumped down from the van and Breck tossed him the three-pin adaptor. This, rather than the laptop’s mains cable, was what he’d plugged into the wall socket at the pub. The device only looked like an adaptor, but was actually a bug with its own transmitter and a range of seventy-five metres. Terry Vass had looked up and down the street, but the van had been parked around the corner.

‘Picked up every word,’ Naysmith said, beaming a smile.

‘And duly recorded.’ Gilchrist was holding a freshly burned CD in his hand.

Breck started counting off on his fingers. ‘Brogan’s evidence… plus the laptop… plus the surveillance…’

‘Any evidence Forensics can lift from the van,’ Fox added. ‘And the fact they’re about to be caught red-handed…’

‘Just about wraps it up,’ Breck concluded. ‘Doesn’t it?’

‘Just about,’ Fox seemed to agree. The two men stared at one another.

‘All right then,’ Fox relented. ‘Let’s go.’

It took them only a few minutes to reach Salamander Point, helped by the fact that the roads were deserted. They had borrowed Kaye’s car to make them less recognisable to Wauchope and Vass. Fox was in the driving seat, slowing only marginally for red lights and then going through them if there was no other traffic.

‘We’re not going to get much of a view if we stay in the car,’ Breck complained. ‘There’s nowhere nearby to park.’ So they left the Nissan on a side street and walked around the perimeter of the site. The temporary fencing had been removed from that part of Salamander Point boasting finished abodes. Grass had been laid, and a few trees and shrubs planted. The address handed to Wauchope belonged to one of the few actual houses. It was semi-detached and stood in a row of six. There was light coming from its upstairs window. Fox had plumped for it because there was less chance of neighbours getting in the way. Many of the flats were occupied, but four of the six houses stood empty. Fox and Breck kept their distance, peering from behind a brick wall that sheltered the neighbours’ dustbins from general view. There was no sign of life from any of the properties.

‘We can’t have missed them,’ Breck whispered. ‘Maybe the van wouldn’t start, or they got cold feet…’

‘Ssh,’ Fox advised. ‘Listen.’

The low rumble of an engine. A scruffy white van slowly turning the corner into the cul-de-sac. Each homeowner had a parking bay, but these were grouped together at the rear of the row of houses. The roadway was to be kept clear at all times, and boasted an unbroken run of double yellow lines. Not that this bothered the van. Its headlights had been turned off, and it pulled to a stop in the middle of the tarmac. When the engine died, Fox realised he was holding his breath. The burning bulb in the upstairs bedroom had been Tony Kaye’s idea. A good one, too. The van doors creaked open and two men got out. Fox recognised both of them. They padded over to the front door of the house, Wauchope’s face illuminated by the screen of his phone. Fox realised he was checking the time. When he nodded, Vass tried the door handle. Having opened it a fraction, proof that it hadn’t been locked, they pulled it closed again and went to check through the downstairs window. Then Bull Wauchope took a couple of steps back and angled his head towards the lit window upstairs. He seemed to whisper something to Vass, who nodded his agreement. Vass retreated to the van, looking to left and right, and returned carrying a length of clothes line and a roll of tape.