onto the end of the settee and stared at the dead fireplace.
17
DI Steel sat in the passenger seat, eating a bacon buttie and slurping noisily at a wax-paper cup of tea from the bakers in Newmachar, while Logan got himself outside a hot steak pie. Steel didn't bother swallowing before pointing at the dilapidated house two hundred yards away and saying,'Mmmmghmmmf, mmmn nnn?' 'No idea. Half two, I think.' She shrugged, and went back to chewing. They'd parked on the outskirts of Hatton of Fintray, a tiny village on the back road from Dyce to Blackburn, so far off the beaten track it was practically invisible. Logan had manoeuvred the pool car down a wee side road - little more than a farm track - with a view through a thin stand of trees and gorse bushes to the dilapidated granite building. One of the downstairs windows had been boarded over, but the other was an empty black hole. The roof looked as if it had eczema, shedding dark grey slates into the overgrown garden. What an estate agent would call 'a fixerupper'. 'How the hell did he find this place?' Steel mumbled through another mouthful of buttie. 'Wiseman's sister worked for the Council, property management, probably had keys to half the abandoned buildings in Aberdeenshire.' Logan polished off the last of his breakfast pie and started in on his coffee as Alec climbed into the back of the car. 'Morning all.' Alec pulled out his camera and fiddled with electronic things. 'Ready for a happy day of sitting about in the cold playing eye spy?' Steel sooked tomato sauce from her fingers. 'Anyone been in there yet?' 'Not since yesterday afternoon.' Logan, pointed at the isolated halfway house. 'Insch didn't want to risk spooking Wiseman, remember?' 'So we've no idea he's even set foot in the place.' She scrunched up the paper bag her buttie had come in and tossed it over her shoulder into the back. 'Remind me again just how many man-hours we're pissing away here?' 'Three cars, two CID per car. Eight-hour shifts.' Steel did the maths. 'A hundred and forty four man hours, every day! Jesus, no wonder Baldy Brian whinges about the overtime bill. And we've not even checked there's anyone home!' She took a swig of her tea, then stuck the steaming carton on the dashboard, fogging the windscreen. 'Come on then, get your arse in gear, we're going over there.' 'But what if Wiseman--' 'If he's here, we'll catch him. Medals and dancing girls for everyone. If not, what's the worst that can happen?' 'He comes back, spots us, does a runner, and we never see him again.' She shrugged and picked up the car radio, putting a call out to the three unmarked cars watching the rundown building, telling them to call her on her mobile if they saw Wiseman coming.
