Close to the Bone

‘Yes, Guv.’

Rennie shoogled in his seat. ‘Can’t we just, you know. . beat it out of Duncan Cocker? ’

‘He’s lawyered up. According to Biohazard, everything’s “no comment” now.’

‘Little sod.’

Sim leaned through from the back. ‘What kind of price range am I looking for? ’

‘Doesn’t matter. Just has to be something liveable in, that’s off the beaten track, and been vacant for a while. Goulding says Agnes Garfield likes ruins, so it’ll probably have steadings, or outbuildings, something like that.’

‘Right, vague it is. .’ She sat back again.

What else would Agnes Garfield want? Land? Nice garden? Central heating and double glazing?

Logan frowned. ‘Any churches for sale? ’

‘Churches, churches. . There’s one in Peterhead? ’

Too far away. ‘Anything else? ’

‘Erm. .’ The silence was broken only by the sound of flipping pages. ‘How about this: “Arquarthy Croft, Kirkton of Rayne. Excellent opportunity to purchase a development or renovation project in the heart of the Grampian countryside, within easy commuting distance of Aberdeen. This three-bedroom traditional farmhouse with extensive outbuildings and three acres of land believed suitable for equestrian use. .” They always say that, don’t they? ’

‘You’re supposed to be looking for churches.’

‘Didn’t let me finish. “. .believed suitable for equestrian use. Includes a derelict chapel with outline planning permission to create a four-bedroom family home with double garage. Four hundred and sixty thousand.”’

‘Ouch.’ Rennie puckered up. ‘Soon as it says “outline planning permission” you know you’re about to be screwed.’

Logan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Anything else? ’

Sim shook her head. ‘That’s your lot.’

Did a derelict chapel still count as consecrated ground?

Worth a try.

Logan turned the key in the ignition.

‘-with gunmen in a four-hour standoff. Sources close to the operation say the suspected cannabis farmers are demanding a helicopter to take them, and their hostage, to Aberdeen Airport-’

Rennie peered through the windscreen as the wipers squealed their way back and forth across the pitted glass. ‘Still don’t see why we couldn’t take the pool car.’

‘-flight to Thailand. We spoke to Chief Constable-’

‘Stop moaning.’ Logan pulled the car into a small lane that disappeared into a forest of identical pine trees, all laid out in a grid, and killed the engine.

Sim clambered around till she was kneeling on the back seat, looking out the rear window. ‘That’s definitely it this time.’

Sodding estate agents and their crappy directions.

Rennie checked his watch. ‘Maybe we should call for armed backup? ’

‘It’ll take them at least half an hour to get here. What if Chalmers is staked out in the kitchen being tortured right now? ’

‘Yeah, but. .’ A shrug. ‘And it’s raining.’

Logan climbed out into the drizzle. ‘Fine. Stay here then.’

Sim clambered out after him.

Arquarthy Croft sat on a small hill in the middle distance, surrounded by billowing golden fields of rapeseed. The house itself was in a rectangular patch of weeds and rhododendron bushes, dotted with about a dozen elderly trees, their branches heavy and drooping. The place was in slightly better shape than the last one, but not by much: a dirty grey north-east farmhouse with gable ends and dormer windows in the sagging slate roof. Off to one side sat a long L-shaped steading. The chunk furthest away from the house was little more than a ruin, the roof caved in, beams showing like ribs on a rotting body.

Sim pointed. ‘Must be the chapel.’

Three stone walls, one with an arched window in it, the rest a pile of rubble.

Logan turned his jacket collar up against the rain. ‘Right, we keep to the tree-line. Sneak up on them from the back of the property.’

She nodded, then handed him the pepper-spray. ‘Just in case.’

Logan stuck it in his pocket, then hurried across the road, over a barbed-wire fence, and into a field of rapeseed bordered by gnarled beech and oak. The thigh-high crop rustled against his trouser legs, filling the air with the smell of honey as he squeezed down the narrow gap between it and the drystane dyke. Soft earth squelched and sucked at his shoes.

Halfway along he stopped and hid behind a wall.

Sim hunkered down beside him and peered between the trees. ‘Don’t see any movement.’

‘Probably inside getting stoned.’

Assuming they were even there at all.

From here the tumbledown end of the steading was directly between them and the house. Blocking the view.

‘You ready? ’

Rennie puffed and panted along the edge of the field, running hunched over as if he was in an American war film. He slithered to a halt and ducked down. ‘Phoned Control and told them we needed armed backup.’

Great. So now-

Logan’s phone bellowed out Steel’s sinister theme tune. Right on cue. He pulled it out.

‘What the sodding arseholes of cock are you playing at? ’

‘It’s a precaution, OK? Nothing more.’ He skimmed through his phone’s menu and stuck the ringer on to vibrate only.

‘Don’t you bloody “precaution” me. I’m no’ having another armed sodding standoff! ’

Logan climbed over the drystane dyke, sticking to the edge of the next field — more rapeseed — making for the steading. He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘What do you want me to do: sit on my backside waiting for you to turn up with the gun brigade? That’ll make great headlines, won’t it: “Police waste time while female officer is tortured to death.”’

‘This is no’ a game, Laz — your nutjob’s killed three people. I’m no’-’

‘And Chalmers is not going to be number four.’

‘For God’s sake! You’re no’ sodding Rambo, you can’t just-’

‘So stop wasting time shouting at me and get your firearms team organized.’ He hung up on her and stuck the phone in his pocket. Managed a whole three steps before the thing started vibrating. Tough, she could leave a message. ‘Everyone: phones on silent. Airwaves too.’

The barbed-wire fence at the end of the field was rusted and baggy, easy enough to climb over. On the other side a thicket of weeds and grass stretched away to the crumbled end of the steading. It grabbed at Logan’s legs as he waded through to the building.

Sim picked her way through the fallen masonry and down the side, where the undergrowth gave way to a gravel yard, enclosed by the L-shaped steading on one side and a sea of nettles on the other. She stopped at a window and peered inside, keeping her voice down. ‘Guv? ’

He joined her at the window. A red-white-and-blue Mini sat on its own in a disused cattle court. Its driver’s side wing was crumpled in, the windscreen a spider’s web of cracked glass. The number plate matched: it was Chalmers’s. ‘Damn. .’

At least now they knew they had the right place.

Rennie reached for the handle on the sliding wooden door.

Sim’s eyes bugged, then she shoved him out of the way, sending him tumbling onto the gravel. ‘Don’t!’

‘Ow!’ He stared up at her, holding on to the elbow of his left arm. ‘What the hell was that for? ’

‘Have you never raided a cannabis farm before? ’ She held out a hand and helped him up. ‘Sometimes they