Dyed in the Wool (33 page)

"Aye."

"What happened?"

"It got out of hand, and pretty quickly, too. I worked in the Tesco in Bathgate when I was sixteen, I joined the force when I was seventeen. Had some cash put aside. I started getting cocky with it - I cleaned up at one of Kyle's old man's cards nights, took in about thirty grand. That didn't make me popular." He took a deep breath. "The next few nights we played, I was taken to the cleaners. I lost my thirty grand in two nights. After a couple of months, I was down a hundred grand."

"How did you expect to pay that debt off?"

"It didn't feel real." Kieron rubbed a tear from his eye. "I couldn't go to anyone with it. I'd lose my job if it came out. I told mum about it. Not how much I'd lost. She made me stop gambling. I told my old boy I'd lost a few hundred quid in a casino. He called me a silly bugger and that was that."

"What happened to the debt?"

Kieron gripped the table edge. "Kyle's dad gave me a loan. Craig Smith."

"How much are we talking here?"

"One hundred and four thousand plus change. He said there were things I could help out with that would get the debt cleared quicker."

"How much is left outstanding?"

"Just over seventy."

"And how much of that was repaid by cash?"

"Five grand."

"What have you been doing for him?"

"No comment."

Cullen sighed. It had been going so well, too. "We're back playing that game, are we?"

"No comment."

"Have you any idea why Alexander Aitken was killed?"

Kieron shook his head. "No."

"No comment or no idea?"

"No idea."

"Are you saying Craig Smith killed Alexander Aitken?"

"No comment."

"Kieron, was it you or Craig who pushed the Range Rover?"

"No comment."

"You were FAO, weren't you? If it was you, then you've perverted the course of justice. That's another serious crime to add to the list."

Kieron swallowed. "No comment."

Cullen stared up at the ceiling. Switch it around. "Who stole the knife from downstairs, Kieron?"

"No comment."

"Was it your dad?"

"No comment."

Cargill appeared at the door. She nodded at Cullen.

Cullen leaned over. "Interview terminated." He stopped the recorder. "I'm sure you understand this won't be the last time we speak to you, Mr Bain."

Kieron avoided eye contact. "I can, but you're not getting anything else from me."

"Here we are." Cullen pulled into the kerb, just outside Ranger Rover.

"You're doing well." Methven opened the door.

Cullen looked round. Patronising git. "Thanks."

"I mean it. You could've taken our chat the other day entirely the wrong way, but you haven't."

"You've not seen the best of me."

"I'm sure of it. I'm here to help you get the best out. There's a changing of the guard and you need to make sure you're on the right shift."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. Just be mindful of it."

Another car pulled in just ahead of them, filled with a squad from Bathgate.

"Thought there was supposed to be three cars?"

"We're arresting a car salesman, Cullen. How hard can it be?"

"This is a car salesman who organises football hooligan meets." Cullen got out and headed over to the car, leaning in the window. "Is he here?"

Green wound the window down. "How do you want to play this?"

Methven raised his bushy eyebrows and thought for a few seconds. "Let's go and get him. Cuff him and take him back to Leith Walk."

Cullen nodded at the two in the back seat. "You two with us." He pointed at Green. "Stay here. Cover him if he makes a run for it."

"Sure."

Cullen looked inside the garage. Smith was facing away from them, flirting with the receptionist.

"Come on, Cullen." Methven set off at a quick pace, flanked by the Bathgate uniforms.

They walked across the car park at the front of the building, full of second-hand SUVs and Minis.

Cullen felt butterflies again - there was nothing like the thrill of an arrest.

Cullen opened the door, causing a chime to sound.

Smith turned to face them, focusing on Cullen. "Have you found out who stole my car?"

Cullen smiled. "Mr Smith, we're arresting you on suspicion of organising a football hooligan meet."

"Excuse me?" Smith frowned.

The uniforms grabbed Smith by the wrist.

"You were involved in the fight at Ginty's Quarry, were you not?"

"Nothing to do with me." Smith tried to shrug them off. "Never heard of the place."

"You need to come with us."

Smith waved towards his staff. "I need to get those two to shut this place at the end of the day, okay?"

Methven. "Fine."

Smith turned away. He quickly delivered an elbow into the face of one of the officers before headbutting the other.

Cullen started towards him.

Smith stepped into Methven's run, blocking him. He kneed him in the groin, sending the DS crumpling to the floor, grabbing his testicles.

Cullen slowed his approach, trying to goad Smith into attacking.

He lunged forward, his fist shooting towards Cullen's face.

Cullen ducked. Smith's fist ploughed into his shoulder.

Cullen fell to his knees, pain screaming all over his body.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Smith jumping into a display Range Rover. It growled into life before jolting forward and smashing through the glass front of the showroom.

Cullen got to his feet, clutching his shoulder.

Methven staggered to his knees. "Never wanted to sodding have bastarding kids, anyway."

"We need to get after him."

Methven vomited.

Cullen put a hand to his back. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine." Methven pointed to the ruined shopfront. "Go after him, I'll catch up."

The uniformed officers were both unconscious.

Cullen grabbed an Airwave from the nearest. "DC Cullen to Control. Over."

"Receiving. Over."

"Need urgent back-up to Ravencraig. Ranger Rover. Repeat, Ranger Rover."

Green rushed towards them.

Cullen pointed down the road. "Where did he go?"

"He headed into town."

"Fucking get after him, then!" Cullen started sprinting, turning to see Methven hobbling along behind.

Cullen got to their Saab and turned the ignition.

Methven got in. "Go!"

Cullen shot off, leaving the Volvo in his wake. He switched the lights and sirens on as he hit sixty on the busy high street, weaving in and out of traffic.

A long queue loomed ahead at the Co-op, so he cut into the oncoming lane, making three cars pull in, his speed dipping to thirty.

As they passed Nichol's Garage on the way out of town, Cullen spotted Smith's car. "There he is!"

He cleared ninety, the houses and other buildings giving way to countryside, damp fields under a grey sky.

He chucked the Airwave to Methven. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Methven winced - his skin had gone white. "I'll live."

"I've called Control. Can you get a roadblock set up? He's heading for Linlithgow."

"Doubt they'll be able to manage."

"Make them."

"I'll try."

Cullen overtook a bus and a slow-moving tractor in quick succession, powering down a long straight into the Ravencraig hills. As he started the descent towards Linlithgow, he saw Smith's Range Rover in the distance, darting between traffic. "There he is!"

Methven looked up. "Don't want him to get to the motorway."

"You getting any joy?"

"There's a couple of cars heading our way." Methven grimaced through the pain. "Should be able to see them soon."

Cullen spotted the flashing blue lights in the distance.

It was clear Smith had too - he swerved left, slicing through a thick hedge into the harvested field beyond, full of wheat stubble and ready for ploughing.

Cullen traced the perimeter - it ran for hundreds of yards, looking like it abutted the M9 a few fields along, heading towards Falkirk and Stirling.

Smith was on the opposite side, heading straight for a thick forest.

Methven tapped the dashboard. "Is this thing a four-by-four?"

"Think so." Cullen felt the four wheel drive kick in as he traced Smith's arc and followed him through the hedge. One of the side mirrors got caught, knocking it back against the car.

They were thrown around inside.

Cullen braced himself as he floored it, relieved to feel the car accelerate as it made up ground on Smith.

Smith's car changed direction away from the woods, heading towards the dual carriageway.

"He's aiming for the motorway." Cullen hauled the wheel round.

Methven clicked the Airwave. "Target is heading for M9, repeat, heading for M9."

Smith struggled up the verge at the edge of the motorway. Cullen had closed the gap to twenty metres.

The Range Rover burst through the crash barrier, continuing straight across both lanes and hitting the central reservation before bouncing back and spinning.

"Thank God the traffic's light." Cullen slowed to twenty as he squeezed through the gap Smith had created, driving over the destroyed barrier.

Smith was turning his car around.

Cullen floored it, letting the clutch spring up. The Saab shot forwards Smith, smashing into the side of the Range Rover, sending it rocking.

The front of the Saab buckled, the engine grinding.

The Range Rover crawled down the motorway, groaning almost as badly.

Cullen pumped the accelerator, getting the Saab going. It started to pick up some speed.

Smith swerved across both lanes every few seconds, his head turning back to look at them.

Cullen kept a reasonable distance, then sped through on the outside, catching Smith as he switched lanes.

Cullen shifted the wheel out and then back again, pushing Smith left. He put his foot to the floor. The wheels squealed. The momentum was with him - he forced Smith off the road.

The Range Rover rolled down the hill.

Cullen slammed the brakes on. He reversed before pulling onto the hard shoulder. He got out of the car and looked down the hill. The Range Rover was lying on its side. "There he is." He jogged down the side of the hill, almost losing his footing.

Methven was down first, ducking low to inspect the car's interior. "He's not here!"

Cullen looked around. "Where is he?"

Methven pointed behind the Range Rover. "There!"

Cullen sprinted off across the field, his shoes struggling to grip the stubble. "Stop!"

Smith turned around just as Cullen rugby-tackled him to the ground.

Smith lashed out with his elbow, connecting with Cullen's cheek.

Methven kicked Smith in the face.

Cullen reached over and put handcuffs on Smith, his face seared with pain. "You're not getting away this time!"

"Here we are then." Wilkinson came over to the whiteboard, carrying a cardboard tray of coffees from the canteen.

Methven winced as he reached over to take his Americano. "Thanks."

Wilkinson slurped at his coffee. "What's up with you?"

"Got kneed in the bollocks." Methven grimaced. "It fucking hurts. Second time this fucking week."

Wilkinson bellowed with laughter. "That's the first time I've heard you properly swear, lad."

"Well, I sodding wish it wasn't."

"Let's get on with this." Cargill sipped her latte.

Wilkinson frowned. "Get on with what?"

"Proving this case."

"We've got Smith on some charges. He'll go away for a couple of years."

"We need more concrete evidence, Paul. You and I both know that Kieron Bain or Dean Richardson are going to change their minds and recant their statements"

"Aye, that or contradict each other in court."

"Correct. We need more." Cargill turned to the whiteboard. In the centre she wrote Alexander Aitken then drew three main arrows away from it leading to Disappearance, Craig Smith and Kieron Bain. She tapped on Disappearance. "What do we know about Aitken vanishing?"

Cullen put his cup down. "He was picked up by a Land Rover Discovery we later found to have been scrapped."

Methven frowned. "Did that ANPR search ever come back?"

"Came back negative - no sightings of it."

"How could it have collected Aitken in South Gyle Crescent but wasn't picked up by any cameras until Ravencraig?"

Cullen shrugged. "There are a few ways to go if you want to avoid main roads. Plus something like that could head across fields with ease."

"Basically, we've got nothing on the car?"

"Nothing."

Cargill sucked her coffee. "What about Kieron Bain?"

"We know he's Gorgie Billy. We think he killed Liam Crossan."

"And he gave us Craig Smith." Cargill drew an arrow between Kieron and each of Crossan and Smith. She tapped the pen on Smith. "Other than stopping DS Methven from having any children, what else do we have on Craig Smith?"

"He's leading this hooligan firm." Wilkinson walked over and stood alongside her. "Soon as you lot are done with him, me and a few of my boys are going to give him a right going over about the network he's involved in."

"Anything specific?"

Wilkinson smiled. "Charlie Kidd's found another three fights on that chat room. Chelsea, Millwall and my Leeds boys. Makes me proud to be a Yorkshireman. Not."

"We really need to shut Schoolbook down." Cargill shook her head. "How is Smith's group organised in the real world?"

"We think they use Rangers supporters clubs as a front. They organise buses through to Ibrox every other week, perfect front for these hooligan meets."

"Do you know anyone else in this firm?"

"Nothing springs to mind. We might have something in the files."

Cullen stared at the board, his mind dancing between the boxes. "What about Aitken and Souness? They were from Ravencraig. Used to go to every Rangers game and they were at the quarry, too."

Wilkinson frowned. "You think they're in this group?"

"Maybe."