Driftnet (22 page)

‘Is this you
checking out your dates with me now?’

‘Who else can I
check with?

‘So what do you
want to know?’

‘He said he
worked with the police.’

‘And?’

‘Is it
true?’

There was a
moment’s silence.

‘It is. Though
he shouldn’t have mentioned it. Must have been trying to impress
you.’

She
laughed.

‘Gavin MacLean
runs a company called Cyber Angels. He specialises in forensic
computing. He analyses what’s been on hard disks, tracks computer
fraud, identifies hackers, that sort of thing. He’s working with us
on the paedophile case.’

‘Right.
Thanks.’ As relief swamped her Bill came back on.

‘Is this you
changing the man in your life?’

‘Well...’

‘Pity. I liked
Sean. Good on the sax, too.’

Mercifully he
didn’t wait for a reply.

In the light of
what Bill had said, both the email and the sighting of Gavin at the
Gallery of Modern Art could be seen as innocent. If Gavin was
helping the police blow a paedophile ring, he would intercept
correspondence relating to that. It was obvious. And as for the
Gallery. Why shouldn’t he meet a young man at GOMA, she asked
herself? He had two nephews, he’d told her so. It had been broad
daylight. No one would meet someone they meant to harm, in broad
daylight, in a public place.

At that point,
Tony stuck his head round the lab door and made her jump.

‘Just wondered
if it was okay to go now.’

‘Yes Tony.
That’s fine. I’ll clear away and lock up.’

He stood for a
moment.

‘I take it
Chrissy’s dad has calmed down now.’

‘What? Oh yes,
I think so.’

‘Good.’

Tony smiled his
goodbyes and closed the door.

Rhona heard the
main door of the lab bang behind him and then there was silence.
She cleared her table and packed everything away. There was a
dribble of coffee left in the jug so she poured it into a mug and
sat down for a moment to think at her desk. If Gavin phoned again
tonight, what would she say? She could just ask him, ‘Was that you
I saw outside GOMA today?’ He would sound surprised and say he
hadn’t spotted her and she should have honked her horn. You could
have come in for coffee with Michael and me, he would say. Meet
Michael, my oldest nephew.

By the time she
got home, Rhona had convinced herself. The next time she spoke to
Gavin, she would explain why she didn’t want to see him at the
moment. She had to sort things out with Sean before she got
involved with anyone else.

On the way home
Rhona stopped at the library and went through Which University in
the reference section, noting down the names and phone numbers of
every university in a big town with a Geology Department, or which
offered Geology in a degree course. The list was endless.

What was she
going to do, work her way through, asking every one if there was a
Mr Hope on the staff?

She laid down
her pen, knowing she couldn’t do it this way. If she found Mr Hope,
he would guess why she had contacted him. She stared out of the
window. If she was an adoptive parent and a woman phoned out of the
blue, looking for her son, what would she feel? She would be
terrified that someone was going to take her son away from her.

Hopelessness
washed over her. It was no use. It was all too late. Much too
late.

The Librarian
was walking towards her. Rhona forced herself to look up and
acknowledge the fact that it was closing time and she must leave.
She slipped the piece of paper in her pocket and left, hoping no
one would notice her tears.

Chapter
33

Bill Wilson
knew he was taking a chance on this one and he didn’t need
reminding.

‘You sure about
this, Sir?’

‘Get on with it
Janice.’

‘The Super
won’t like it.’

‘I’ll deal with
the Super, Constable.’

‘Right,
Sir.’

Janice gave him
an odd look. It wasn’t because he was making things difficult for
her, he knew that. She was worried for him.

‘Just tell them
to find something Janice.’

‘I’ll tell
them, Sir.’

He had spent
most of the day in his office, dealing with paperwork he’d been
avoiding since the beginning of the investigation. When the call
came through from Dr MacLeod he had been momentarily nonplussed. It
was not Rhona’s style, neither the question, nor the manner in
which it had been put. It started him thinking.

He certainly
wouldn’t be happy if Gavin MacLean had been talking to anyone about
the work he was doing for them. There had been enough of a furore
after Connelly’s coverage. That had almost brought the
investigation to a complete halt.

Damn. He was
sorry if Rhona had finished with the Irish chap. Folk today just
didn’t stick it out, he thought. Not like Margaret and him.
Twenty-four years. And, God knows, Margaret had enough reason to
leave him, considering the life of a policeman’s wife.

This
investigation had got to Rhona. It had got to him. Crawled into his
guts and twisted them about.

He buzzed
Janice, glad he hadn’t sent her to Falblair.

‘Janice.’

‘Yes.’ Her
voice was as cautious as his own.

‘What do you
know about Gavin MacLean?’

She looked
surprised. ‘He was checked out before we employed him, Sir. As far
as we know he’s clean.’

‘I don’t mean
that. I mean socially.’

‘Socially?’

If Janice
wasn’t trying to be obtuse, she was a natural at it.

‘Is he
married?’ he tried again.

‘No.’

‘How d’you
know?’

‘I just
do.’

‘Do you fancy
him?’

‘Sir!’

‘Well?’

‘No.’ She was
emphatic.

‘Why not?’

There was a
pause. ‘Can’t say Sir.’

‘Go on
Constable.’

‘He’s too good
to be true, Sir.’

‘Thank you
Janice. That’s a great help.’

If she noticed
the sarcasm, it didn’t show in her face.

‘Is that all,
Sir?’

The call came
through at 4.40. The cottage at Falblair had been searched
thoroughly.

It was Sergeant
George. ‘Sorry Sir. No curtains.’

Bill swore
under his breath. He was in for it now. Connelly’s contact must
have been lying.

‘But,’ the
voice on the other end stopped him. ‘We did find something that
might be useful.’

As Bill
listened a smile spread over his face. His Sergeant was right. This
was as good as the curtain, maybe even better.

‘Drop it in at
Forensic on your way back,’ he said. ‘Make a point of giving it to
Dr MacLeod in person.’

Bill buzzed
Janice.

‘Time for a
coffee Janice. And Janice! I believe I’m going to have a nip of
that whisky in mine, the one Sir James sent. How about you?’

There was
someone at the door. She didn’t want to see anyone right now. She
sank back down into the bath water and closed her eyes. She had
promised herself a long hot soak, and then... she had rehearsed the
words a hundred times. She was going to tell Sean everything. Why
she hadn’t answered his calls, why she hadn’t gone with him. Her
suspicions about him, about herself.

The bell went
again, more urgently this time. The sitting room light was on.
Whoever it was knew she was in, and wasn’t giving up. She swore,
got out of the bath, put on her dressing gown and headed for the
intercom.

‘Yes?’

‘Rhona. It’s
Chrissy?’

‘Chrissy! Come
up.’

Neil was with
her. Rhona had felt curious about him. He certainly was a looker,
bruised face or not.

Rhona led them
into the kitchen.

‘Chrissy said
you like vodka, Neil.’

He nodded.

‘Straight?’

‘Any way.’

Chrissy
accepted one too, saying nothing. She looked as if she hadn’t slept
for a week.

‘You’d better
tell me everything.’ Rhona said.

****

‘Is this
journalist going to help you?’ Rhona said when Neil finished.

‘He said he
would contact the police. Give them the information,’ Chrissy
looked better now. Telling Rhona had made it less awful. She was
slowly regaining her colour. She looked at Neil, who was standing
by the window, staring out. ‘It’s just that when we got back to the
flat, there was this car. A car Neil recognised.’

‘Neil?’ Rhona
said.

He turned round
too sharply, and winced again.

‘Sit down Neil,
please,’ Chrissy pleaded.

‘I’m okay,’ he
said.

‘You can’t go
back to the flat, not yet anyway. You must stay here.’ Rhona wasn’t
prepared to take no for an answer.

Rhona could see
Chrissy wanted Neil to agree.

‘Just for
tonight,’ Neil gave in.

Rhona had made
up her mind. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

When she came
back with the printout, Neil had been persuaded to sit down beside
Chrissy on the couch.

‘You used the
names Simon and Caligula,’ Rhona said.

He stared at
her. ‘Aye?’

‘I think you
should read this.’

She watched as
his eyes swept the page.

‘What is it
Neil?’ Chrissy looked worried.

He looked up at
Rhona. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘From the
printer on Gavin’s computer.’

‘Who the
fuck’s?’

‘He was looking
for information for me. Hacking the system, if I’m honest. He works
for the police, helping them track computer crime.’

Neil waved the
paper at her. ‘Did he show you this?’

‘No. He doesn’t
know I’ve got it.’

‘Why?’

Rhona sat down,
her legs suddenly weak. There was something in Neil’s eyes that
demolished all her rationalisations about what was on the
paper.

‘I don’t
know.’

Neil took the
paper and examined it closely. Then he asked why the string of
letters and numbers at the top of the page were the same.

‘What?’ she
asked stupidly.

‘The two email
addresses are the same,’ he said. ‘Look.’

Rhona grabbed
the paper from his outstretched hand. He was right. Her brain was
straining to recall anything she could about the subject, but she
kept coming back to the same conclusion.

‘Neil.’ The
thought wouldn’t go away. ‘Have you ever met Simon?’

Neil’s face
tensed.

‘Slimy
shit!’

Neil turned to
Chrissy. ‘There isn’t a Simon and a Caligula. There’s just one
creepy bastard. And I’ve seen that bastard’s face.’

Rhona came back
with the vodka bottle.

‘Do you think
it was this guy called Caligula or Simon that murdered the boy?’
she asked Neil.

‘I don’t know,’
he said.

‘We’ll have to
tell the police,’ Rhona said.

‘No.’ Neil was
adamant. ‘Wait. This MacLean. If he’s working for the police then
you would expect him to have information like this. Why didn’t you
ask him? Why did you hide the printout? Chrissy thought you and him
were getting it on?’

Rhona
interrupted, shaking her head. ‘Chrissy was right. I did like him.
Like him.’ Rhona searched for words. ‘I don’t trust anybody.’

Neil shot
Chrissy a look and she smiled.

‘I should have
just asked him.’ Rhona was finding it hard to explain. ‘I felt
guilty, it was like I was spying on him, his work.’

She looked down
at her glass. ‘I saw him in the park with a boy.’

‘What d’you
mean, with a boy?’

A boy got off a
bus at the stop near GOMA. He met a man. It looked like Gavin.’

‘Did you know
the boy?’

‘No. But
Gavin’s got two nephews. It could have been one of them.’

‘What does he
look like, this Gavin MacLean?’ Neil cut in.

‘He’s
tall...’

Chrissy
interrupted her. ‘He’s blonde and wears a tweed jacket. Good
looking. Smiles too much.’

‘You don’t
think it’s Gavin?’ Rhona asked Neil.

‘No.’

He stood
up.

‘You two stay
here,’ he said.

‘Where are you
going?’ asked Rhona.

Neil didn’t
answer. He bent down and planted a kiss on Chrissy’s mouth.

‘Don’t let
anyone in. I’ll see you later.’

The place
seemed suddenly empty without him. Rhona followed Chrissy over to
the window, as sorry as she was to see Neil go.

Chapter
34

Chrissy
persuaded Rhona to go and finish having her bath, while she cooked
them both something to eat. Afterwards they took the remains of the
vodka through to the sitting room and turned on the television.
Outside, the weather broke.

‘I’ll get it,’
said Rhona, going to close the window. ‘You turn on the telly.
Anything would be better than sitting here thinking.’

The news came
on.

‘Will I turn it
off?’ Chrissy said.

Rhona shook her
head. There was always a chance they might have caught the guy, and
life could get back to normal.

But no. A
spokesman for Strathclyde Police made a statement that there were
no developments to report. Lines of enquiry were being pursued.

‘They’re bound
to catch him now,’ Chrissy said angrily. Rhona felt unable to say
what she was really thinking. Whoever Caligula was, he was a clever
operator. It looked as if he had been at this game for a long time
and, if what Neil said was true, he had friends in high places. If
Neil chose to testify against any of them, they’d hire top lawyers
to tear his story apart.

After the
murder update, the news switched to political stories, leading with
the Conservative victory in Bearsden. Rhona listened
dispassionately as the commentator spoke of the dynamic contest
fought by the blue-eyed boy. A photograph of a happy family of four
appeared on the screen. It had been taken in the garden of a big
house. Fiona, Rhona had to admit, looked ravishing. At the front
stood a plump but pretty teenage girl and a slightly younger
boy.