It turned out that he hadn’t. By the time they got to the tower, Narey had already ordered a floor by floor search and found that a door to an office on the seventh floor had had its lock picked. A window had been left open with a clear line of sight to the smouldering remains of the white van but forensics didn’t fancy their chances of lifting anything worthwhile. There were a hundred and one fingerprints and various hair samples snagged on the back of chairs but they were sure they belonged to anyone but the shooter. The area around the open window was meticulously wiped clean and it looked like he had covered whatever tracks he’d brought into the room. They’d file and test anything and everything but whoever did this knew exactly what he was doing.
So Winter photographed a near-empty office knowing that the scene examiners were right. He also slipped on his biggest zoom and shot the car on the edge of George Square, just as the sniper had done. Easy peasy. One click.
He heard footsteps behind him and looked at the window to see Rachel’s terse reflection looking back at him.
‘What is this guy up to?’ he asked her without looking round, seeing just a shrug of the shoulders in return.
‘He’s taken a van full of coke off those mules,’ he continued. ‘Beaten the shit out of them then shot them as they ran at Harthill. He’s done all that to get hold of that cocaine. And it’s worth how much?’
‘A million is what the drug squad is guessing,’ she answered. ‘Twenty-four kilos, about?40 a gram.’
‘A million quid’s worth of cocaine. He’s driven it into town, forced that poor sap to park the van in the square then blown the whole fucking lot up. He couldn’t have made it more public if he had burned it in the centre circle at Celtic Park on a Champions League night. What’s he up to?’
Narey shrugged again but this time offered up an answer.
‘Whoever he is and whatever he’s doing, he wants to make sure everyone in Glasgow knows about it. Us, the bad guys, the media, Joe Public, the lot.’
‘No such thing as bad publicity?’ Winter suggested lamely.
‘Not buying that,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘He’s not trying to take over the Glasgow trade. If that was his game then he could have flooded the market with this, given it away free to every junkie in the city and put the opposition out of business. This headcase is not trying to become number one. And he is certainly not trying to make money because he’s just smoked a million pounds of it in public.’
‘Well, there’s one thing you can be sure of,’ said a voice from the doorway. It was Addison. ‘The press are going to have a field day with this. Bad enough that he kills gangsters, now he burns seven figures worth of drugs. They are going to make this guy a poster boy for vigilantes.’
Winter couldn’t help thinking that maybe wasn’t such a bad thing but he knew it wasn’t what his pal wanted to hear.
‘So what do you think, Addy?’
‘I think I’m going back over to Harthill to see the Temple and then grab some food before the game tonight. I take it you’re still going?’
‘Well, aye, but are you not going to be a bit busy with that lot out there?’
‘Wee man, you know the score. There’s murders, there’s shootings and there’s the Celtic. Glasgow can manage fine on its own for a couple of hours. This shit isn’t going to get any shittier tonight. Get you in the Oak sometime the back of seven?’
‘No, I’ll see you in the ground. C’mon though, what do you think is going on?’
Addison looked beyond them and through the window to the last flurry of the snow scene on George Square.
‘An hour ago, I didn’t have a clue but now, now I think I might at least know what this fucker is up to.’
‘Care to share?’ Narey asked him.
‘DS Narey!’ Addison replied with a wide grin, as if seeing her for the first time. ‘Is my mind playing tricks on me or did we not speak about you working full-time on the Wellington Lane case?’
‘We did, sir. You were very clear on the matter.’
‘Ah, I thought so. So why…’
‘I was in the area, sir. Just passing.’
‘Really? Keep on passing then, Sergeant. We’ve got this under control.’
Aye, it fucking looks like it, she thought.
CHAPTER 17
At Harthill Services, word about the bizarre scenes in George Square had filtered back to those still meticulously poring over the scene in search of evidence. Shirley and Baxter had both demanded that their officers concentrate on the job in hand and not let their minds wander to the city centre.
Numbered yellow photo evidence markers dotted the scene showing where Winter had started the process and, following the news of the white van and the cocaine, the crime scene examiners had finished it. The examination was structured and sequential, by the book, and they would gather every available piece of physical and trace evidence.
Amidst the scrupulously organized fury of the examination, no one noticed Jan McConachie edge quietly to the perimeter of the crime scene to take the phone call that had been buzzing angrily in her pocket for several minutes. She had already seen the name on the phone’s screen and there was no way she could take that call within earshot of anyone else. Not that she wanted to take the call at all. There were four missed calls by the time she was safely out of anyone’s range. She could imagine his rage rising with every failed attempt to talk to her and knew that could never be a good thing.
‘About fucking time,’ he shouted at her when she picked up. ‘Do you know how many times I’ve called you?’
‘Yes, I know,’ she answered quietly. ‘There’s been another two shootings. Well, three. Two of Quinn’s guys, Stevie Strathie and Mark Sturrock plus an old boy who just happened to get in the way. I’m at the scene now.’
‘Fucking hell.’
Jan could hear the shock in his voice and was relieved to hear that he hadn’t known about the killings. That was at least one weight off her mind.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he continued. ‘I’ve been watching Sky News and some fucker has just blown a shitload of cocaine up in the middle of George Square.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘That’s not much fucking good to me, Sergeant. I don’t pay you to know things that I already know. I pay you to tell me things that I don’t know. Who’s doing this? And more to the point, who the fuck is he intending to knock off next?’
She hesitated. She had nothing to tell him.
‘I don’t know,’ she finally admitted. ‘We don’t know.’
‘That’s no fucking use,’ he raged. ‘Things are crazy out there right now and I need to know who’s behind this. I’m shedding no tears for Quinn or Caldwell, far from it, but this is all bad for business. Do I need to remind you of our arrangement?’
‘No, you don’t. All I can tell you right now is that it was the same gun that killed both of them. It was almost certainly the same person who shot the three in Harthill today. When I get more I’ll tell you.’
‘Immediately.’
‘Immediately,’ she agreed.
He hung up and she closed her eyes and made a silent prayer for all this to go away. Right at that moment, there was nothing that Jan wanted more than to be at home with the door locked and she and Amy safely behind it watching cartoons on television. Her mind raced to school finishing time and she prayed again, this time for Amy to be standing safely inside the school gate when she went to collect her.
