‘Like after Grandad Joe died in his sleep. Me mam was downstairs in the kitchen, arguing with Granny Murray — can’t remember what about, but there was lots of crying…And there was us upstairs, alone in the room with Grandad Joe.’ Knox reached out and stroked the faded velvet curtains. ‘He looked like butter, like he was made out of it, you know? All yellow and greasy, but when I touched his skin it was dry. Dry and cold. I was nine.’
‘His name’s Doctor Goulding. I can set it up an appointment for today, if you like?’
‘His teeth was sitting in a whisky glass beside the bed, and he’s lying there, mouth not quite shut, you know? Like he’s about to say something? So I pulls his mouth open, all the way, and runs me finger round the inside. His skin was cold, but inside he was still warm…’ Knox trailed off into silence, one finger tracing a circle on the dried- blood curtain. The smell of mould getting stronger.
Logan cleared his throat. ‘Maybe we should just-’
‘In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.’
‘Richard, we’re going to need to get you out of here.’
‘And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.’
‘Look, we’ve got a contingency plan for-’
‘And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.’ Knox stopped drawing his circle and grabbed the curtains with both hands.
‘Richard, this is important. I need you to-’
‘And God said, “Let there be light”!’ He threw the curtains open and Aberdeen did its best to rise to the occasion. Dawn had finally breached the horizon, colouring the snowbound garden with gold and amber.
Knox turned and smiled at Logan. ‘And there was light.’
And then there really was — blinding white light, shining straight in through the bay window. Logan covered his eyes with a hand, peering out.
Someone shouted, ‘There he is!’
An outside broadcast van sat on the other side of a lopsided holly bush, TV spotlights trained on the house. A bank of cameras. A group of people, placards jabbing into the cold morning air: ‘KNOX OUT!’ ‘ABERDEEN DOESN’T WANT GEORDIE RAPISTS!!!’ ‘PERVART GO HOME!’
‘Bloody hell.’ Logan creaked out of the armchair. ‘Richard, close the curtains!’
The weaselly little man just stood there, staring out at the people staring back at him.
‘Richard!’ Logan pushed past him, hauled the dusty red curtains shut.
Darkness.
Then the chanting started.
‘But…it’s me
‘Go. Pack your stuff.’ Logan grabbed him by the sleeve. ‘We have to-’
‘DON’T TOUCH US!’ Knox scrabbled backwards, hands working at his chest like angry spiders. ‘Don’t touch. You’re not allowed to touch!’
‘I’m sorry, OK? Calm down.’ Logan held his hands out. ‘No one’s going to hurt you.’
‘Make them stop!’
‘It’s OK, you’re safe. They can’t-’
A loud crash ripped through the musty room, the curtains billowing, the shatter of falling glass, shards spilling out across the carpet.
The lounge door clattered open: Mandy from Sacro. ‘What the hell was that?’
Another crash and the curtains humped out again. More glass. A fist-sized lump of rock rolled out into the gloom.
Logan backed away, looked at her. ‘Get him out of here.’
‘Come on, Richard, it’s not safe.’
‘Don’t touch us!’
‘I’m not going to touch you-’
Through the lounge door, Logan could see Butler and Guthrie running for the front door, extendible batons at the ready.
More glass, another rock.
Logan stood at the upstairs window, looking down at the crowds. They’d grown thicker over the last hour, now the whole street was packed with angry faces, staring up at the house, shouting.
‘Knox, Knox, Knox: Out! Out! Out!’
Had to be two, maybe three hundred people out there, chanting in the snow, breath steaming into the cold morning air. Waving their placards. Being outraged for the cameras.
And there were a
At least reinforcements had arrived. Two unformed officers shivered at the front gate, while a reporter with a
A pair of large police vans had parked at the edge of the crowd, one of them slowly filling up with people arrested for public order offences.
The snickt of metal sounded behind him, and Logan turned to see DI Steel sparking up a cigarette. She wiggled the pack at him.
‘Thought Knox didn’t want us smoking in the house?’
She settled onto the room’s single bed. ‘Screw him.’
It was obviously a boy’s bedroom: dusty Airfix model kits of Spitfires, Hurricanes, and other assorted warplanes, sitting on top of a tatty chest of drawers. A football poster on the wall so faded that the Newcastle United team were a collection of ghosts. Blue wallpaper. A
Logan took a cigarette and lit it, then hauled the sash window open, the swollen wood squealing.
‘Knox, Knox, Knox: Out! Out! Out!’
Steel plumped up one of the pillows and settled back. ‘Think they’d get bored after a while, wouldn’t you? Same thing, over and over.’
‘Every oddball, weirdo, and tosspot in town is going to descend on this place.’
‘Yup.’ She blew a smoke ring at the ceiling.
‘There’s something else.’ Logan told her about Collin Miller’s little revelation. ‘So with Mental Mikey dead…’
Steel didn’t even blink. ‘I know. Danby told me. Why do you think Knox wanted to move up here: our balmy climate and cafe culture? Nah, knew Mikey was on the way out, needed to be…’ She waved her hand in a circle, the cigarette leaving a trail in the air. ‘…somewhere all those ambitious wee radges couldn’t get their hands on him. With Mikey dead he’s no’ protected any more.’
‘Oh.’ So much for that. Logan turned back to the window, watching the snow settle on the crowd.
‘You get anything out of Polmont’s journals?’
‘Still working on it.’ He’d taken them home again last night and forgot all about them after Samantha came through wearing nothing but her tattoos, stripy hold-ups and a pair of knee-high kinky boots. ‘Why’s Danby so interested?’
‘Who says he’s interested?’
‘Do we have to go through this
‘Can you imagine lying here every Friday night listening to your granny and grandad humping like horny gerbils?’
‘Fine, keep it secret, like I bloody care.’ He flicked ash out of the window. ‘How are we going to get Knox out of here?’
