Shatter the Bones

‘I just … just need to speak to Finnie.’

‘…and all I’m saying is that we can’t put anything in place until we know what the terms and location for handover are going to be.’ Superintendent Green was leaning back against the windowsill in Finnie’s office. He looked up as Logan entered, then back to the head of CID again. ‘Any plans we make now will be irrelevant as soon as they get in touch.’

‘And I say there are contingencies we should be planning for now.’ Finnie swivelled his chair around and frowned at Logan. Then his face softened. ‘I understand you brought Shuggie Webster in. Well done.’

‘Thank you, sir, but I wanted to talk to you about-’

‘The only things you can realistically do at this stage of a kidnapping are put the hospital on alert, get a duty doctor on call, and get the force helicopter on standby.’ Green folded his arms. ‘It’s irrelevant in any case — we should be concentrating on finding Frank Baker. We do that and he’ll lead us straight to the McGregors.’

Finnie didn’t even look around. ‘This isn’t Miami Vice, Superintendent; Aberdeen doesn’t have a helicopter.’ He paused for a moment, then took a deep breath, eyes closed, letting it out slowly. ‘Now, what can we do for you, Logan?’

‘I need another firearms team. Two Yardies going by the names Jacob and Robert, it’s possible they’re the ones who’ve abducted Trisha Brown. They skinned most of Shuggie Webster’s right hand when he couldn’t pay off his drug debt.’

Green sniffed. ‘I think we’ve got more important things to worry about than a couple of two-bit drug dealers, Sergeant.’

‘Really, sir?’ Logan pulled on an ill-fitting smile. ‘Oh… Well, in that case, would you like me to nip back up the hospital and tell Trisha Brown’s mother her little girl isn’t as important as Alison and Jenny McGregor, because she’s not on the television?’

Pink rushed up the superintendent’s cheeks. ‘That’s not what I meant. By all means go pick up your little drug dealers, but let’s not lose sight of the fact that the kidnappers have already killed one little girl and time’s running out for Alison and Jenny!’ He squared his shoulders. ‘Frank Baker’s the key.’

‘Frank Baker isn’t-’

‘You just can’t admit when you’re wrong, can you Sergeant? You’re wrong and I was right. Baker’s guilty — that’s why he ran. The guilty ones always run. That’s why I exerted so much pressure on him, not because I think I’m,’ Green raised his fingers and made finger-quotes, ‘“something off The Sweeney.”’

Logan clenched his fist, feeling the skin pull tight over his swollen knuckles. ‘Frank Baker ran because you threatened to tell the people he worked with he was a paedophile.’

‘Exactly!’ Green stepped forward, until he was standing at Finnie’s side. ‘He’s a paedophile with access to a veterinarian’s, his own transport, and-’

‘He’s into little boys, not girls!’ Getting louder and louder. ‘And the vets he volunteered at haven’t lost any thiopental sodium. They’ve checked, six times. You just pulled his name out of your arse and decided he was guilty!’

Green stiffened. ‘Do I need to remind you, Sergeant, that I am a superintendent with the Serious Organized Crime Agency?’

Finnie bit his top lip. Cleared his throat. Turned to Logan. ‘And do you have an address for the Marley brothers?’

‘Marley…?’

‘Robert and Jacob. Bob Marley: reggae singer, Jacob Marley: Scrooge’s dead partner from A Christmas Carol. Either your Yardies have a twisted sense of humour, or they’ve been visited by the coincidence fairy, don’t you think?’

Logan gave Finnie the address he’d got from Shuggie: a semi-detached in Kittybrewster. An address beaten out of a crippled man with his hands cable-tied behind his back.

‘Hmm…’ Finnie sat back in his chair, swivelling slowly from side to side.

Green raised that manly, cleft chin of his and stared down his nose at Logan. ‘I thought you were supposed to be on compassionate leave?’

Prick.

The head of CID tapped a finger on his desk. ‘DS McRae is a valued member of my team, Superintendent. If he feels he’s better off helping us recover a missing girl and her mother than sitting at home brooding, I’m inclined to support him.’ He gave Green a smile. ‘Dedication, Superintendent — one of the cornerstones of policework, don’t you think?’

‘I think,’ Green picked invisible lint from the sleeve of his suit jacket, ‘that Grampian Police seem to have problems interfacing with the reality of the situation. Alison and Jenny McGregor’s survival depends on a unified and concerted response to Frank Baker, and we need to do it now.’

Silence.

Finnie pursed his lips, both hands spread out on the desktop. ‘Superintendent, I can assure you Grampian Police are well aware of the situation. And while I deeply value your input, if you don’t mind, I think I might just try to do my job and get a couple of drug-dealing scumbags off the streets.’ He ruffled some papers on his desk. ‘Detective Sergeant McRae — I understand you wanting to be involved,’ he cast a sideways glance at Green, ‘but I think it might be best if nightshift handled this.’

‘Sir, if I can just-’

‘You’ve done more than enough today. Go home; get some rest. We’ll deal with the Marley Brothers.’

‘But-’

Finnie held up a finger, ‘We’ll deal with it.’

Logan frowned at the screen. ‘So the red banana thing-’

‘The Ninky Nonk.’ Steel topped up his whisky. ‘Thanks.’ The living room was warm, a large LCD television mounted above the fireplace filled with bright primary colours. ‘So the Ninky Nonk is some kind of random bus service?’

‘Yup.’

‘And the porcupines-’

‘Pontipines. They want to get on the Ninky Nonk so they can go wherever it is Pontipines go. Dole office, most likely. Work-shy bastards.’

‘Only every time they try, the Ninky Nonk drives off?’

She took a sip. ‘Got it in one.’

Susan’s voice floated through from the kitchen. ‘Come on Stinkypants, time for bed.’

Steel patted Logan on the arm. ‘It’s OK, she’s not talking about you.’

There was a sort of toddler jail set up in front of the couch — a big circular enclosure made of plastic and netting. A little girl in a skull-and-crossbones babygrow lay on her back in the middle of it, trying to suck her own feet in that disturbing double-jointed way very small children have.

‘So why does it keep driving off?’ The whisky was making the world go fuzzy at the edges. That or the lack of sleep.

‘Best guess? The driver’s a cunt.’

‘Roberta!’ Susan appeared, wiping her hands on a dish towel. ‘What have I told you about that? What are they going to think when Jasmine starts nursery?’

‘They’ll think, “who’s this beautiful wee monkey with the colourful vocabulary?”’ She creaked up from the couch and broke Jasmine Catherine Cassandra Steel-Wallace out of Baby Barlinnie. ‘Oh-ho, someone’s made trouser truffles…’

Susan smiled. ‘Are you OK, Logan? Do you want some more ice cream?’

‘No, no, I’m fine thanks.’ Just as long as he didn’t think about Shuggie Webster. Or Samantha. Or not being in on the firearms team picking up the Marley brothers. Engineering a little accident for them…

‘…Logan?’

Blink. ‘Sorry?’