The Relentless Tide Read online

  ‘All in good time, DCI Daley. I’ll let you know how things are as soon as I know.’ With that, the medic hurried by, crashing through the swing doors into intensive care.

  ‘You’ll no’ get anything oot o’ them until they work oot whether he’s fit enough tae go up tae Glasgow,’ said Scott matter-of-factly.

  ‘Okay, Dr Finlay, exactly how do you know that?’

  ‘If you’ll remember, it’s no’ that long ago since I was fighting for my ain life after bein’ shot – or have you forgotten?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, you’ll concede, I know a wee bit aboot what’s going on in there.’

  ‘No. You were spark out the whole time, Bri. In fact, if memory serves me right, you didn’t regain consciousness until the second day you were in Glasgow ICU. Unless you had one of those out of body experiences.’ Daley raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Och, I had plenty o’ them when I was on the booze, Jimmy.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Anyhow, you’ll just have tae cool your jets until the docs have done their job. Mind you, he wasnae looking too clever when he went in there.’ Scott fished into his pocket, produced a bag of salted peanuts and proceeded to pour a small mountain of them into his right palm before transferring them into his mouth. ‘Here, you wa’ a peanu’?’ he said through a mouthful.

  ‘And having expressed his gloomy medical prognosis, Dr Brian Scott moved on to the more important matter of feeding his face.’

  ‘You’re right in the doldrums again, big chap. You’re no’ still mooning aboot that poor wee lassie, I hope?’ Scott’s speech was clearer now that he’d swallowed the mouthful of peanuts.

  Daley’s expression made it plain that part of the conversation was at an end.

  They sat in silence for a while, Daley observing the busy hospital staff, while Scott, having shaken the remains of the peanuts vigorously into his hand, decided he’d hold the open end of the bag to his left eye, just to make sure he hadn’t missed any. Suddenly, he yelped in pain. ‘Bastard!’ he shouted, drawing a disapproving look from a staff nurse.

  ‘What on earth’s wrong?’

  ‘I knew fine one o’ they peanuts was left in the packet. Bloody thing just donked right intae my eye. Oh, you bandit,’ Scott exclaimed, sitting forward in his seat, rubbing his eye furiously with his forefinger.

  ‘Rubbing will make it worse,’ said Daley.

  ‘Oh, fuck, it’s bloody agony,’ groaned Scott. He stood, attempting to open the stricken eye, which only led to another bout of expletives.

  ‘Please!’ said the staff nurse, on her way back past the detectives. ‘What on earth is wrong?’

  ‘He took one in the eye, nurse,’ Daley informed her dispassionately.

  ‘Oh my . . . not a bullet fragment, I hope? I know he was with poor Mr Galt when he was shot.’

  ‘No, a peanut,’ said Daley.

  ‘Aye, nurse, any chance you can take a swatch at this?’ Scott leaned his head towards her, one eye closed as though he was attempting a particularly pronounced stage wink.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Get into the Gents and rinse it out with some water, man. And don’t be such a baby!’ She bustled off, shaking her head in exasperation.

  ‘Angels in uniform, my arse. That bloody peanut hit me a fair wallop right on the eyeball. You would think she wid have the professional courtesy tae take a look – in case I’ve got a detached retina, or that,’ Scott added, squinting despairingly at Daley through one eye.

  ‘I’ve just remembered something you said, Brian.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said that Galt appeared to be dragging a female up the hill when you and Potts started chasing them. Am I right?’

  ‘Aye, that’s what I said.’

  ‘So how come she recovered her composure sufficiently to escape?’

  ‘He’s a lucky bastard. If he’d been shot wae a peanut they widnae gie a fuck in here. I’m off tae the bogs tae administer self-help. It’s true what they say aboot hospitals these days – nae care any mair, just a job.’ He plodded off in the general direction of the toilets, left hand covering its corresponding eye. Daley noted he managed to take time to explain his plight to an old man wearing a tartan dressing gown and pushing a walking trolley before disappearing through the door of the Gents.

  Daley watched him absently, deep in thought. Who was the shooter? And why take such drastic measures? Whoever it was, Daley would bet his pension it was they who had fired on the injured man, and not Galt’s female companion. If she was his companion – if she was Helen. However Galt had come across the hoard of Norse jewellery, he hadn’t done so alone.

  He thought again about the unfortunate nurse.

  ‘Ya bastard!’ came a muffled shout from the Gents, just as a young doctor walked towards him.

  ‘How’s Mr Galt?’ asked Daley anxiously.

  ‘Holding his own. We’ve stabilised him sufficiently to be able to helicopter him to Glasgow. He’s not out of the woods yet, but things could have been so much worse. I’m confident they’ll be able to put him on the road to recovery up there, though it’ll take an operation or two, and he’s lost a lot of blood. You can never be sure.’

  ‘Is he conscious? You must be aware that I think Mr Galt might be able to help me to find your missing colleague Nurse McNeil.’

  ‘I understand why you want to talk to our patient. And, of course, finding Helen’s very important to us all. But at this stage, DCI Daley, even if he was conscious, Mr Galt would be in no condition to be questioned by you. That’ll have to wait, I’m afraid.’ He stopped suddenly, cocking his head to one side like a confused dog. ‘What is going on in the toilet?’

  Daley gave him a grave look. ‘Nasty peanut injury, I’m afraid.’

  Glasgow, 1994

  Brian Scott was sitting in front of his friend in the canteen in Pitt Street, the Strathclyde force headquarters. He looked about nervously, the large mug of coffee in front of him as yet untouched. His eyes followed the progress of an assistant chief constable as he weaved his way between tables, cup and saucer in one hand, briefcase in the other.

  ‘Is that no’ MacPartland?’ he said to Daley in a loud whisper.

  ‘I think you’re right, Bri. ACC MacPartland.’

  ‘Do you know what his nickname is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘They call him the bastard. Aye, and he’s no’ alone in here – this building’s full o’ them.’

  ‘So, you don’t want the job?’

  ‘Wait noo, big man. I never said that. It’ll just take me a wee while tae get used tae my surroundings.’

  Daley smiled. ‘I don’t know why, Brian. You’ve spent more time here than anyone I know.’

  ‘Aye, getting hauled o’er the coals by some so-and-so wantin’ tae put me on the dole. I never thought I’d actually find myself working here.’

  Daley looked about absently, stirring his coffee. ‘It’s not going to be a cushy number, that’s for sure. Speirs is a prick – that was obvious as soon as I met him.’

  ‘No surprise, Jimmy. His good mate’s oor John Donald – nae need tae say mair than that. But I’m no’ worried aboot arses like him. What’s this DI Graham like?’

  ‘I’m about to find out.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m meeting him in half an hour. I’m to brief him on what I know about . . .’

  ‘I see. Well, if it’s any consolation, they tell me he’s a good bloke. Proper auld-school detective. Doesnae rest until he gets his man – that sort o’ thing. Wyatt Earp type.’

  ‘Not like his number two. Speirs doesn’t rest until he gets a pint, by the looks of things.’

  ‘Beats me how these guys get tae where they are.’

  ‘Simple. He runs the team, Graham gets on with doing his job. You must have seen that before, Brian.’

  ‘Sure have, buddy. Keeps the gaffer sweet, has his own little kingdom in return. These are the guys that always make it tae the top. Go on, Jimmy, tell me I’m no’ right.’


  ‘Sadly, you’re spot on. Hopefully it won’t be like this for ever.’

  ‘Don’t hold your breath.’ Scott eyed him for a few seconds. ‘Who would have thought it?’ He grinned.

  ‘Thought what?’

  ‘You a DS in the Serious Crime Squad. I bet your Lizzie’s right chuffed.’

  ‘She will be when I tell her. But remember, it’s only an acting promotion. I’ll be back on the desk before you know it.’

  ‘Nah, that’s no’ going tae happen. You’ll be right up there. Here, don’t forget your auld pal when you’re Chief Constable.’

  ‘Talking of which, I want you to get up there – introduce yourself. Speirs is in court, so have a poke around and see what you can find out from the troops. You’re better at that than me.’

  ‘Only cos I’m no’ a threat. Nae bugger’s worried aboot their job when Brian Scott rides o’er the horizon, that’s for sure.’

  ‘You’re too hard on yourself, Brian. It’s horses for courses.’

  ‘Here, is that no’ what Burns used tae say?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ said Daley, sadness in his voice.

  Machrie, the present

  The tiny bothy – more of a shepherd’s hut – was in the hills about three miles from Machrie. He’d struggled to get her across the rough terrain in the darkness. But the cool night air appeared to clear her head, so the last mile or so was easier.

  She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a thick woollen blanket, rocking gently to and fro.

  He eyed her with a mixture of love and loathing. He could picture the car rocking in the quarry, as the palm of her hand slid down the misted window. He remembered them in the remote rocky cove, naked, never dreaming anyone was there to witness their lovemaking. These and so many other instances that had driven him to insanity over the last few months; it tore at his soul.

  ‘You’ve fucked this up big style,’ she said, her diction still lazy after the alcohol.

  ‘How do you know? Your boyfriend looked pretty lifeless through the night-sight of my rifle. You know the fix we’re in. I merely did it.’

  ‘I merely did it,’ she mocked in an effeminate voice.

  ‘What was your plan?’ he shouted in response.

  ‘Not to blow his brains out in front of the constabulary, that’s for sure.’ She stood, still holding the blanket around her shoulders. ‘I should never have involved you in this. I knew it right from the start. You must be one of the most immature men I’ve ever met.’ She angled her head back and laughed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You being associated with the word man. You’re no more of a man than I am,’ she snorted. ‘Why do you think I’ve had to get my jollies elsewhere?’

  ‘Your jollies! You mean slake your unnatural desire for sex. It’s you who’s not normal, trust me!’

  He looked at her in the flickering light of the fire. She dyed her hair, and it looked false somehow; too dark for her complexion. There were lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Her cheeks were hollowed slightly, making her features sharper, more pronounced. Her hand holding the blanket tight at her neck was the hand of a middle-aged woman, wrinkled, fingers not bony yet, but they would be one day.

  She was still beautiful, though. She was still beautiful enough for him to desire her: still beautiful enough for the thought of her being with another man to torture him, night and day.

  ‘So, what’s the plan now?’ he asked weakly.

  She glared at him, the fire reflecting in her dark eyes. ‘The plan was that you would let me do things my own way. I knew how to handle Galt.’

  ‘Oh yes, we know all about your handling of Mr Galt.’

  ‘I know you know. You surely weren’t stupid enough to think for a moment that I didn’t know you were following me, watching me with him?’

  ‘What?’ He took a step away from her.

  ‘That’s your problem. You’re still a bloody child. You have no idea how the real world works. I wish to hell I’d never asked for your help with all this.’ She turned away, huddling back on to the floor nearer the fire.

  ‘We were going to be rich, remember? We were going to live somewhere in the Med – dig for what we wanted, not ever worry about who was going to be our boss, or how we would fund it. You told me this job would lead us to millions!’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It would have done – it should have done. Now, though, we’re trapped in a bloody hut waiting for the police to descend on us, and you’ve shot someone. Someone who will put us in jail as soon as he opens his mouth.’

  ‘Only if he’s alive. He can’t identify us if he’s dead, can he?’

  ‘What, really?’ It was her turn to shout. ‘So if he’s dead, the police will just put it down to bad luck? You shot at them – you hit Galt! If he dies they’ll come after us, if he lives they’ll come after us. How many people do you think are up in the hills here tonight?’ She stared ahead. ‘We only have two feasible options.’

  ‘And they are?’

  She shook her head and stared into the flames of the fire. ‘Let me think.’ She paused, turning to look right into his eyes. ‘Remember, the police and Galt – they’re the least of our worries.’

  Suddenly, despite the warmth of the fire in the little room, he felt a shock of cold. ‘Our customers, you mean?’

  ‘What do you think, arsehole?’

  25

  Daley was frustrated. He felt as though an opportunity had been missed, and that was one of the feelings he hated most in his job.

  He and Scott were sitting at their usual table at the rear of the County Hotel bar. Even Annie had noticed the big detective’s expression and served them their drinks with little of the cheery banter she habitually imparted.

  The place was quiet, save for three noisy fishermen sitting on stools at the bar. Normally, this would have irritated Daley, but tonight he was grateful that they were keeping Annie busy, giving him time to think, as well as question Scott more fully about the chase.

  ‘So, tell me again. You got there, knocked on the door, and after that Potts shouted that they were on their toes up the hill.’

  ‘Aye, Jimmy. As I telt you, that’s just what happened.’

  ‘You’re definitely sure it was a woman?’

  ‘Yes! How many times are you going tae ask me that? Mind, I’ve been looking at women for a long time now. I recognise them quite easily, big man.’

  ‘And Potts agrees.’

  ‘Aye, he agrees. But, like me, he didnae get a right look at her, so he cannae say if it was Helen or no’. How many times are you going tae go through this?’

  Daley looked at his watch. ‘The helicopter should be on its way by now. They found that missing child in the Campsies over an hour ago.’

  ‘Listen, I know you’re anxious tae get moving on the search, but the chopper is the only way in the dark. It’s just oor luck they were busy trying tae find a wean when we needed them. But I tell you this, it’s a brave man – or woman, come tae that – that will try moving far on that hill tonight. Cannae see your hand in front o’ your face.’

  ‘They could have a torch – or a vehicle. Have you thought of that?’

  ‘Who in their right mind is going tae take off up a hill wae a missing woman, shoot at us, then allow themselves to be caught because they’re plodding aboot wae a great torch beam lighting their way? They cannae know that the chopper’s delayed. And mind, we’ve got every track off that hill covered.’

  ‘Symington should have let me send up a search team. We’ve searched in more dangerous conditions than this.’

  ‘Not since they brought in Health and Safety officers. Different world, Jimmy. She just did as she had tae. You should know that fine by noo. How many decisions have you made just because you had tae follow the book now you’re a gaffer?’

  ‘As few as possible.’

  ‘Ach, there’s nae talkin’ tae you the night. I suppose you’re getting back up t
he office tae coordinate this search when it’s light enough?’

  ‘Of course. It’s my job.’

  ‘So what’s Symington doing?’

  ‘She’s up there now, but how much experience can she have in incidents like this? I mean, she’s probably spent most of her time at Health and Safety seminars, the rest climbing the greasy pole.’

  ‘I hope you don’t let any of the gaffers hear you at that – you’ll be oot the door quick smart. And, I might add, she’s nae stranger tae outdoor pursuits, if you remember. Much less o’ a stranger than you and me, that’s for sure. When’s the last time you scaled a rock face, Jimmy?’

  ‘Every time I go to work.’ He paused and sighed. ‘Point taken, Brian.’

  ‘You’re supposed tae be taking this down time tae get some shut-eye. I’m off tae bed. Mind, I’ve got the wife arriving tomorrow.’

  ‘How are you going to break the news about your injury?’ Daley nodded to Scott’s bloodshot eye.

  ‘I’m telling you, that was sheer agony. All the salt ’n’ all. Ye didn’t think o’ that. Just bliss when that wee doctor skooshed it oot wae thon water jet thing. You try it, see how you get on!’

  ‘Get to your bed. See you bright and early, remember.’ Scott hesitated. ‘And you’re really back off up tae the office?’

  Daley nodded his head. ‘We still don’t know if Galt’s going to pull through. He’s off in one helicopter while we wait for another. I’ve got a duty to Helen McNeil. I feel responsible – you know how it is.’

  ‘Come on, then. Let’s get back up tae the ranch, Jimmy. We’ve had oor break.’

  Daley smiled at his old friend. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Brian.’

  They said goodnight to Annie, left the County Hotel and trudged up the hill to Kinloch Police Office.

  Glasgow, 1994

  Daley walked slowly into the Horseshoe Bar in Glasgow city centre. Not far from Central Station, it was always thronged with customers. People from all walks of life congregated around the eponymously named bar of the public house, the barriers of class and social standing almost forgotten. Within moments of entering the premises, he recognised a retired sheriff and a couple of the city’s less upstanding citizens, one, an elderly but notorious housebreaker, the other, a former hard man, now too addled by alcohol and drugs to intimidate anyone. They were all enjoying a drink in relative conviviality, watching the racing on television sets placed at strategic viewing points throughout the large room.