Referendum (33 page)

Sandy went to the hospital as soon as he could, the execution story meant that it had been a busy night but he made it to Arbogast’s private room to catch the last few minutes of visiting time. There was a woman there he hadn’t met before who introduced herself as Beckie.

“Have you known each other long?” Beckie wasn’t sure how to feel.

“We started seeing each other quite recently,” She stopped herself when she saw his BBC pass. She was worried she was speaking to someone she shouldn’t be, “Sorry, should I know you?”

“I’ve been friends with John for 20 odd years, we go back a long way. But it hasn’t been so good of late and I’ve been worried I might not get the chance to put things right.”

“He’ll be OK; the doctors say he has a good chance. Both his legs are broken and his ribcage has seen better days but there’s no reason he won’t pull through.”

“I’m still worried he won’t forgive me for starting all this.”

“What do you mean?” Beckie recoiled slightly, she sensed she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear. “What have you done?” Beckie didn’t know much about John’s job but he had mentioned Sandy, it hadn’t been a particularly glowing report.

“I was looking into Graeme Donald and was warned off. He was dangerous and John agreed to help look into it.”

“Well something was done alright; I just hope it was worth it.” Beckie was starting to feel hostile towards this wayward pal.
It’s all been a bit much to take in. I might not have been with John for long but we’re already close.
Even so, she didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. One thing was sure, though; the old pal had to go. “I think you’d better leave.”

At the ward reception desk, Sandy asked if Chris Guthrie was able to see guests. The nurse looked at her watch and said he could have two minutes, no more. Looking through the window Sandy saw that Guthrie already had company and decided to leave them to it.

“But how did this happen, what was he thinking?” Rosalind Ying had heard Chris Guthrie’s side of events three times now but it still seemed incredible.

“We heard three shots and then Murphy left with Davidson. We tried to catch them up but then they just went under the truck. It happened so fast I don’t think we could have done anything else. We’re lucky to be here at all.”

“But where did Murphy think he’d be able to go? He’d killed a high profile cop, the whole world would have been looking for him and he’s only got so many bullets.”

“I didn’t see what happened in the building. I guess with Murphy and Davidson dead we’ll never really know. But at least they’re all gone. From what you’ve said it sounds like they were cancer. What are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“John didn’t say much to me about the detail, but he said you had evidence. Are you still going to use it?”

“I’m not sure there’s any need. We just wanted to force Donald to leave. Arbogast was gunning for Murphy and they’re both gone now. I’m not sure what good it would do to drag everyone’s reputation through the mud even more than it already has been.”

“Bad for our image you mean?”

“Exposing Donald would have been bad for everyone. The hero cop turns out to be a bad bastard, where would that leave us? More questions about corruption in the force, more people offered up as scapegoats. I was willing to do that if it meant we got rid of Donald, he could have done serious damage over the years, caused rifts that would have been hard to put right.”

“But he’s gone now so why bother?”

“You’re being flippant but you’re bang on, why bother? What good would it do? Donald’s still dead, all we’d be left with would be a media shit storm and even more scrutiny. It’s not something I need, and you can bet that you’d be part of the circus too.”

Chris understood what she meant, he didn’t like covering things up but he was willing to give Rosalind the benefit of the doubt, “I hear what you’re saying but I think we need to wait to see what John says.”

“We don’t know when that will be and I can’t wait. I’ve already reported this to the Audit and Risk Committee. A decision will need to be made on what happens next, although I suspect the less that leaks out the better.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do, so don’t forget who’s got your back. I could be a friend to you, Chris. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Maybe when I’m back at work we can talk. I can’t really think straight just now.”

“How long have you been signed off for?”

“I was lucky, sitting on the passenger side I got off lightly, nothing more than bad bruising and a couple of fractured ribs, and that was from the airbag.”

“Well, take care, Chris; we’ll be there for you when you need us.”

“Thanks DCI Ying, appreciated.”

“I think you can probably call me Rosalind, given we’re off duty.”

Chris Guthrie smiled and said goodbye, maybe something good would come of all this after all. He just hoped John pulled through.

47

The sound came in waves, like a merry-go-round. Arbogast caught snippets of conversation as he spun round, unable to focus on anything for any length of time.

His mother was cycling by the sea, singing a song he only half remembered. There was a dark figure standing on the shoreline that he couldn’t make out. It seemed to be waving. In the distance the sun was setting, the final rays of bright light tapered out across the water. Clinging on to the last moments of a summer’s day, he stared and smiled; was pointing – telling his mother to look. But she was beside him now. Up above the sea he looked back to see the dark man wave. He was hand in hand with his mum. But he didn’t want to fly so close to the sun. An Icarus figure appeared beside him, with his wings on fire. He was shaking his head, urging him to turn back. But he couldn’t. A bright light, then darkness.

Beckie Arnold ran down the ward. She’d pressed the emergency button but she felt she needed to do more. The fine soled shoes she was wearing slipped on the vinyl flooring as she ran down the hospital corridor.
Where is everyone?
She saw a white coat disappear into a ward and then followed it in, grabbing the jacket and pulling them back.

“Doctor, you have to come quickly. It’s my partner, something’s happened, he’s choking.”

Back in the hospital room Arbogast shook violently in bed. His hands were outside of the covers and barely moved while his body contorted, his back arched in pain.

“He’s choking. Nurse – help me turn him over.”

Beckie hadn’t noticed anyone else arrive but there were now two nurses in the room. They rolled down the covers and turned Arbogast on his side. The Doctor chopped twice at his back then stood down.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re meant to be helping him.” Beckie was pulling the doctor back; she didn’t know what she was doing. But the noise had stopped. A familiar voice boomed out.

“Get your damned hands off me!”

John Arbogast was back in the land of the living.

***

It’s been a long drive but I need to get there as fast as I can. I’m getting too old for journeys like this.
The concentration of driving such a long distance was wearing him down. He flicked off the tape and said goodbye to Beethoven. The kids always laughed at his cassettes, asked him where he’d dug them up from but it was too expensive to get something new.
But anyway stop putting it off; it’s time to go in.
Parking the car in the multi-storey he took his best jacket from the boot.
I want to make a good impression.
Looking at his reflection in the back window, he took a deep breath and walked in.

***

“John, you’re OK, thank God. I thought I’d lost you.” Beckie had thrown herself on the bed. She’d forgotten about his broken ribs but John was quick to remind her.

“Have a heart woman, that’s agony.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Are you OK?” He looked weak but he was smiling, “They weren’t sure what was wrong, you just switched off. Can you remember what happened?”

“Not really. We were driving, then something hit us,” A flash of recognition hit him and he shouted out, “Where’s Chris? Is he OK?” He winced as the movement sent sharp pain through his chest.

“Chris is fine, John, don’t worry about him. He’ll be out of here in a couple of days, a lot sooner than you anyway.”

“And Murphy, did he get away?” Beckie’s expression told him everything he needed to know. His only thought was that he was glad. Glad there would be no questions, no trial, and no exposé. It was over; things could go back to normal, whatever that was. “How long have I been here?”

“It’s been two days.”

“Two days? It feels like the accident just happened so what date is it?”

“It’s September 18
^th
– Referendum day.”

“But I haven’t voted.”

“With everything that’s happened to you that’s all you can think of?”

“I need to vote, we all need to vote.”

“It’s too late, John. It’s past 10 o’clock. The polling stations are closed.

“But I’ve missed my chance.”

“You didn’t even know who you were going to vote for.”

“But I should have made my mark.”

“You’ve done that in other ways. You just need to concentrate on getting better. What’s done is done.”

Arbogast was angry with himself for letting the situation get out of hand. He felt like a fool for not listening to Chris.
If I’d slowed down I might have avoided this mess.
The doctor told him he’d be out of action for a couple of months, that he needed rest. It was during that conversation that an old man appeared at the door. He asked if this was John Arbogast’s room? For a stranger he had a very familiar face.
How did he know I was here?

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. They found my number in your wallet and phoned to let me know. They said I should visit; that hearing from me might help.”

John Arbogast was battered and bruised, tired and emotional; this was the last place he expected to finally come face-to-face with his father, “Why now, after all this time?”

“You left the note in the summer and my wife said then that it was high time we met. I didn’t want to, though. I didn’t know what I could say. How could I possibly make up for all those lost years? But then when the doctor called...”

“You weren’t sure I’d pull through.” Arbogast was trying hard to hold back the emotion, “I didn’t expect to ever meet you. All these years I thought you were dead. But I’m glad you’re here. Come and sit down. We’ve got a lifetime to get through.”

It was a day John Arbogast had hoped for. Hoped for but never expected to see. As he lay in bed with people around him he felt that he had been wrong in the past; there was always hope for the future.

48

The package arrived on September 19
^th
but it didn’t reach Sandy Stirrit for another three days. He’d been flat out covering the aftermath of the Referendum. Sitting at his desk he cut open the envelope to find dozens of pictures and several CD cases. The note suggested he might want to investigate.

Hi Sandy,

We met before under difficult circumstances but I want you to know it was just business. If you’ve received this package it means I’ve either been arrested or, more likely, I’m dead.

The contents of this parcel are evidence of criminal activity involving Graeme Donald in Belfast and Glasgow.

I’ll leave it to you to decide how to use the information but I’d ask you to expose this man for a lifetime of greed and gross abuse of public trust.

Niall Murphy
      

Sandy sat back and flicked through the pictures. It was going to make a great story.

***

In George Square the saltires still flew, but the songs had changed from anthems to laments. The food bank was gone and Karen Balfour rued what she saw as a missed opportunity; she’d hoped for so much more. But her tears had been shed and as she held her baby in her arms, she was determined this wouldn’t be the end. We’ll be back. Just wait and see.

About the author

Originally from Ayrshire, Campbell Hart has lived in Glasgow on-and-off for more than 20 years. A qualified broadcast journalist he spent ten years working in commercial radio and at BBC Scotland before moving into PR.

His debut crime novel ‘Wilderness’ was inspired by real events and the bitter winter of 2010. It reached No. 2 in the Amazon Noir charts and stayed in the top 100 for five months. The follow-up ‘The Nationalist’ was a No.1 bestseller in Amazon’s Scottish Crime chart.