The Deep Dark Sleep

their father, that’s all. I’m sorry we disturbed you.’ I handed him a five pound note. ‘That’s for your time. I have to say there would have been more if you had been able to help.’

I lifted my hat an inch and turned, leaving Dunbar staring at the fiver in his hand. Archie followed me, looking disappointed, which really didn’t signify anything in Archie’s case.

‘That’s that, then,’ he said.

‘Not quite. He has something to tell us. Something he really wants to tell us. And I think I already know what it is, but I want to hear it from him. That’s why I’ve left my number.’

‘Wait!’

‘Yes, Mr Dunbar?’

‘I was telling you the truth, I didn’t have anything to do with the Empire robbery or any other Strachan job. And I’ve never seen Strachan since before I went to prison.’

‘But?’

‘But I’ve got some information that will cost you twenty-five pounds.’

‘That all depends on what it is,’ I said, but started to walk back towards Dunbar, making a show of taking my wallet out.

‘It’s about the body at the bottom of the Clyde.’

‘You can tell me who it was?’

‘No. But I can tell you who it wasn’t …’

CHAPTER TEN

Dunbar reluctantly agreed to my request that his wife make us all a nice cup of tea and we could sit and discuss the information he had. Dunbar was certainly no matinee idol, and from the frugality of the cottage’s interior, he clearly didn’t have two pennies to rub together, so I was expecting his wife to be homely.

I was in for a surprise. Mrs Dunbar, who greeted us with a hostile glare and a grunt when we introduced ourselves, would have needed a team of Hollywood’s finest plastic surgeons and cosmeticians to get her even within sight of the outermost suburbs of homely. Hers was the kind of ugliness that one normally took pity on, but my brief exposure to her personality relieved me of that burden. I could understand now why Dunbar had been so reluctant to admit us and I promised myself to bring a scythe and a polished shield the next time I visited the cottage.

‘So, Mr Dunbar,’ I said after his wife left the room: we were clearly not going to get a cup of tea. ‘So, what is it you have to tell me?’

‘Money first.’

‘No, Billy, I’ll pay you afterwards. I know you’re going to tell me that it wasn’t Gentleman Joe at the bottom of the Clyde. I knew that from your reaction when I told you about the remains right at the start. So you don’t have much to bargain with, other than telling me how you know. But I promise you you won’t be short changed, so spill some beans.’

‘I volunteered for the army when war broke out, but they wouldn’t have me: my age and my record went against me. So I ended up working here, on this estate, for the Duke. With so many men away at war, he was so short staffed he would take on anyone.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘The hell of war … making do with only three under-butlers must have scarred him for life.’

‘Don’t talk about His Grace that way. He did his bit in the war. And he’s been good to me. If I hadn’t found this place, I’d probably have had no choice other than to go back on the rob.’

‘Okay, Billy, don’t bust a lung. Just tell me your story.’

‘Well, during the war the Duke was hardly ever here. He was one of the top commanders in the Scottish Home Guard. And he got me into it. The Home Guard, I mean.’

‘Great …’ I said. ‘So you could guard railway stations and that kind of thing?’

‘Well, no.’ Something dark clouded Dunbar’s expression, as if he really didn’t want to go into what he was about to go into. ‘Did you serve in the war?’

‘Yes. Canadian First Army. Captain.’

‘Canadian First, eh? You fellows had a rough time of it, all right. I know what you must think of the Home Guard. A joke. Old men with brooms instead of rifles, unfit for duty boys guarding libraries and church halls?’

‘No, as a matter of fact that’s not at all what I think.’

‘Well, for the first time in my life, my criminal record worked for me, not against me. The Duke called me up to the big house and I was interviewed by him and three other officers. They told me my special skills could maybe be useful.’

‘In the Home Guard?’ I tried to keep the incredulity out of my voice.

‘In the Auxiliary Units.’

Now that took me aback. I reappraised Dunbar. He was a tough enough looking nut all right and it wasn’t that incredible.

‘What are the Auxiliary Units?’ asked Archie.

‘Officially they were members of the Home Guard,’ I explained. ‘Especially in places like this, where there are a lot of men used to working in the open and with a knowledge of the terrain. But they had special training and duties. Didn’t you, Billy?’

‘We was called Auxiliers. Or Scallywags. Like Mr Lennox said, we was officially attached to Two-Oh-One Home Guard Scotland.’

‘But I thought all the Scallywags were based along the south coast of England,’ I said.

‘Aye, most were, but there were Scallywags in every part of the country. We was a special unit up here. You see, the Highlands were so fucking empty of people that they were worried that the Germans would drop agents and paratroopers into the Highlands in force to cause shite up here while the invasion took place somewhere else. A sort of Arnhem in reverse.’

‘It was preparation for the invasion that never came,’ I explained to Archie. ‘Forget everything you think of when you think of the Home Guard. These guys were highly trained assassins and saboteurs, but you would never have known. Farmers, doctors, teachers, postmen … gamekeepers. If the invasion took place and ended in occupation, the Scallywags were to kill anybody who could be of use to the Nazis.’

‘There’s still explosives ammunition and guns hidden,’ said Dunbar. ‘We was to create as much fucking mayhem as possible. We was to be issued with seven weeks’ rations if the invasion happened. The powers that be reckoned that after two weeks of action, we’d all be fucking dead.’

‘This is all very interesting, Billy,’ I said, ‘but what has this got to do with Gentleman Joe Strachan?’

‘I was getting to that. We was sent to Lochailort, way up in the middle of fucking nowhere on the west coast. It was where all the special units got their training. This wee fucking Highland village full of Beaverette armoured cars and machine gun posts all over the shop. The navy base there was where we was trained. You have no fucking idea the things they taught us. How to cut throats so that the fuckers dropped without a sound, how to make homemade bombs and them flame fougasses.’

‘What’s a fougasse?’ asked Archie.

‘A big fuck-off improvised incendiary. Five or ten-gallon barrels of petrol buried or hidden with a detonator attached. Some could be as big as fifty gallons. Anti-tank and personnel carrier stuff. Torches everything and everybody to fuck. I saw three of our boys burn to death in training when one of those fuckers went off accidentally. Anyway, we got all of this training. Hand-to-hand combat. Defendu, have you heard of it?’

‘Defendu … the Fairbairn system? Yes, I’ve heard of it,’ I said. ‘In the Canadian army we had Arwrology, which was pretty much the same thing.’

‘Aye. Defendu was invented by that bloke that designed the commando knife. But if you came from Glasgow you didn’t need to learn Defendu, we already had fuck-you.’ He laughed at his own joke. I made an impatient face.

‘Anyway, we was there for six weeks solid training, then back for another six. There was all kinds of brass hanging around the place, from every secret outfit you could imagine. We was under the command of the Special