Smokeheads (8 page)

Molly and Roddy tried their phones. Nothing. Adam looked up at the snowclouds then out to sea. It was starting to get dark.

‘What time is it?’

Roddy looked at him. ‘Your pulse gizmo fucked?’

Adam nodded and Roddy smirked. ‘How are you going to cope without knowing how stressed you are?’

Molly looked at her phone. ‘Ten past four.’

‘Shit, we were unconscious for over an hour,’ said Adam, trying to ignore Roddy. ‘Ethan and Luke could be in a bad way.’

‘We should split up and look for them,’ said Molly.

Roddy leaned on a rock, then slid down onto his arse. ‘Think I need to rest for a bit.’ He fingered his shoulder. ‘Feeling a bit dodge.’

‘Should one of us try to get help?’ said Adam.

Molly shook her head. ‘It’s freezing, the snow could get worse and it’ll be dark soon. We need to find Ethan and Luke before we do anything else. Adam, you go left and I’ll head right. After a couple of hundred yards head up the slope then work your way back along. I’ll meet you up on the ledge if we haven’t found anything.’

‘OK.’

‘I’ll hold the fort here,’ said Roddy, trying to laugh through laboured breaths.

Adam and Molly headed off along the beach. It was rough terrain, boulders and rocks everywhere, slippery kelp draped over low-lying stones.

Adam scrambled over the rocks as best he could, slithering around puddles and pools. He shouted for Luke and Ethan and heard Molly and Roddy doing the same, then as he cleared a large shelf of stone he spotted something. It was a body face down in a rockpool twenty yards away. He recognised the Berghaus fleece.

‘Ethan,’ he yelled, clambering over. He turned round briefly. ‘Molly, over here, I’ve found Ethan.’ He waited to see Molly wave in acknowledgement and change direction, then he clambered over to the body.

Something was badly wrong. The left arm and head were at impossible angles to the torso, which was slumped in half a foot of water. Adam turned him over, then staggered back with the force of lifting him. He sat next to the pool and looked at Ethan’s face, one half of which was bloody and collapsed, the skull crushed, exposed empty eye socket glaring back at him.

He vomited into the water. His body shook as he heard Molly shouting to him. He looked up at Ethan again and winced. He edged towards the body and held Ethan’s wrist with his own shaking hand. Freezing cold and no pulse. Fucking hell. Fucking, fucking hell.

‘Oh, Christ,’ said Molly behind him.

Adam dropped the hand and scuttled backwards.

Roddy appeared behind Molly. ‘Holy fuck,’ he said, turning away.

Adam sat on the ground shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’

Roddy looked at the body. ‘Poor bastard.’

‘Poor bastard?’ said Adam, standing up. ‘Roddy, this is all your fault.’

‘How do you figure that?’

‘If you hadn’t been driving like a total maniac we wouldn’t have come over that cliff and Ethan wouldn’t be lying there with half his face missing.’

‘If you hadn’t punched me in the fucking ear when I was driving …’

‘So this is my fault?’

‘Fucking right it is.’

‘You never take responsibility, do you?’

‘Not if it’s not my fault.’

‘Bastard!’ Adam shouted, rushing towards Roddy and swinging for him.

Roddy stumbled backwards clutching his shoulder and fell to the ground as Adam threw punches at his head and body. Roddy covered his face with his good arm, ducking out the way of the fists as best he could.

‘Adam,’ cried Molly, pulling at him. ‘Leave him.’

Roddy brought his knee up into Adam’s groin, making him collapse, then slid out from underneath, pinning him with his knees and punching with his left hand. Molly was forced back by the struggle as they swore and raged at each other like boys in the playground.

‘What the hell are you guys doing?’

The voice was quiet but it made them stop and turn.

Luke was standing on a rock above them. He made an agile leap down as Roddy and Adam rolled apart, wheezing and coughing.

Luke was about to speak when he saw Ethan’s body. He walked over and knelt down next to him. He touched Ethan’s neck in a tender gesture then put a hand on his own brow. ‘Jesus.’

He shook his head and walked back to where they were standing.

‘What happened, man?’

‘We came over that cliff,’ said Molly. ‘Adam came round first and got me and Roddy out of the car. You and Ethan must’ve been thrown clear. Where were you?’

Luke nodded behind her. ‘Up the slope, thick heather.’ He looked at Ethan. ‘I was lucky, I guess.’ He noticed Roddy’s shoulder. ‘What happened to you?’

‘That’s the last time I buy a fucking Audi,’ said Roddy. ‘Came apart like balsa wood.’

‘Looks sore, man.’

‘Correct, Einstein.’ Roddy grimaced. ‘Give the man a medical degree. So I guess we go get help now.’

‘Fucking hell,’ said Adam.

‘What?’

‘Ethan’s lying there dead, for Christ’s sake.’

‘So what?’ said Roddy. ‘We’re supposed to sit around and grieve? Nothing we do changes what’s happened. But we have to start thinking about getting the fuck out of here and saving ourselves.’

‘You heartless bastard.’

‘Heartless doesn’t come into it. He’s dead, that’s that.’

‘Jesus, someone is going to have to tell Debs,’ said Adam.

They all stood in silence looking at the body.

‘We have to get rescued first,’ said Luke eventually. ‘Phones?’

‘Nothing,’ said Molly.

‘So what do we do now?’ said Roddy.

‘We need to think logically,’ said Molly. ‘Option number one is to stay by the car and wait to get spotted.’

‘What are the chances of that happening?’ said Adam.

Molly shrugged. ‘Not great. We’re very remote, and I don’t think you can see the bottom of the cliff from the road. We could light a fire, that might get some attention, but not if there’s no one nearby to see it.’

‘Fuck that,’ said Roddy. ‘We need to do something. I’m not sitting around on my arse waiting to freeze to death.’

Molly nodded. ‘Fair enough.’

She looked up at the cliff face. It was completely unclimbable.

‘Well, there’s no chance of getting back up that way,’ she said, and turned to look both ways along the coast. ‘Looks like we’ll have to start walking, but it’s not going to be easy.’

‘Why not?’ said Roddy.

‘It’s freezing cold, almost dark and the tide is coming in. Judging by where the grass starts, the water could come up another thirty yards.’

They all looked along the coastline. The shelf in the cliff petered out in both directions after a few hundred yards. Lower down, the beach was peppered with huge boulders in one direction, and hidden by a jutting headland in the other.

‘We need to do something,’ said Luke.

‘Let’s just start walking,’ said Roddy.

‘Which way?’ said Adam.

‘Well,’ said Molly. She pointed in the boulder-strewn direction. ‘That’s east, so Port Ellen is that way, but it’s quite a few miles away, and I’ve no idea what the coast is like between here and there. What we can see from here doesn’t look too easy to get across.’

She turned towards the headland. ‘That way is the American Monument, it’s definitely closer. I know there’s a farm near it, Upper Killeyan, and a clifftop path at the monument, but I don’t know if there’s a way up from the beach.’

‘What about mobile reception?’ said Luke. ‘Which way’s better for getting a signal?’

Molly shook her head. ‘There’s no reception anywhere on the Oa. Hardly anyone lives here, there’s never been a need.’

Roddy turned to Adam and laughed. ‘You were going to start up your own business in a place that doesn’t even have mobile reception? Jesus Christ.’

Adam glared at him.

‘Oh, fuck you,’ said Roddy, getting his coke tin out and tooting a line.

‘I don’t think that’ll help,’ said Adam.

‘Fuck off, I need it for the pain.’ Roddy waved the box around. ‘Anyone want a line?’

They all stared at him, incredulous.

‘Suit yourselves.’

‘So which way?’ said Luke eventually.

Snowflakes disappeared as they hit the wet ground around them, but left a thin white layer on their shoulders.

Adam shrugged.

‘I think west,’ said Molly, turning. ‘The terrain looks easier and we know there’s a farmhouse not too far away.’

‘West it is,’ said Roddy, snorting another line and sniffing.

The light was almost gone and snow covered the ground by the time they reached the bottom of the headland. Adam looked back the way they’d come, thin threads of footprints trailing back to the crumpled car, now being lapped by waves. He could just make out Ethan’s body. He and Luke had dragged him the short distance to the car so he would be easier to find, and placed him above high tide, so he was lying twenty feet further up, a snowy bump marked by a small cairn.

Adam looked at the dried blood on his hands and felt sick, Ethan’s death a rock in his stomach. How the hell had it come to this? Why Ethan? He was always the cautious one, the safe guy, the one who took out insurance and made sensible career moves and never did anything out of place. Surely he would’ve been wearing a seat belt? If not, why the hell not? Either way, he was now laid out at the bottom of a cliff, snow soaking into his bones, and the whole thing was Adam’s fault, despite what he’d yelled at Roddy earlier. This morning outside the B&B, Ethan had talked about going home to see Debs, but Adam had talked him out of it. Jesus Christ. He felt his stomach heave.

‘Look.’

Molly was pointing ahead. Luke and Roddy were just behind him, and the three of them hurried to reach her.

In the far distance Adam could see a light. It was a couple of miles away at least, and the night encroached all around, but there was definitely something there.

‘Looks like a farmhouse,’ said Molly.

Adam peered into the darkness. There was an outline of a building nestled tightly into a cove just before the next headland. He couldn’t see any other buildings, or any road or path leading to the place, but then it was hard to make anything out in the creeping gloom.

As they watched, the light blinked out, leaving a thin outline behind.

‘Maybe they’ve closed the curtains,’ said Molly.

‘It’s a bit in the arse-end of nowhere, isn’t it?’ said Roddy.

‘Lucky for us it is,’ said Adam. He squinted and thought he saw a whisper of smoke drifting up from the black shape, but couldn’t be sure.

‘Come on,’ said Roddy in a strained voice. ‘Let’s get the fuck over there.’ He held his injured arm tight to his body. ‘I’m dying here.’

‘You’re not actually dying,’ said Adam pointedly, glancing behind them.

‘I might if we don’t get a fucking bend on.’

It was slow going, even with the thought of the building spurring them on. The terrain was uneven, large slabs of rock and loose shingle-strewn slopes making it hard to find a way across, forcing them to take a time-consuming, circuitous route. They found themselves looping in and out, scrabbling up and over, having to detour around freezing pools of seawater and crumbling stone arches to make any headway.

Coming away from the sea and up the shore they found a path of sorts, a break in the stones underfoot, and they quickened their pace a little. It was dark now, and they kept losing the path in the snow, stumbling over rocks and into potholes, getting frantic as their fingers and feet began to sting with the cold. Adam wondered about frostbite: how did you know if you had it? He could still feel his extremities, but his whole body was visited by occasional shivering spasms as the snow got heavier all around. He looked ahead but all he could see was the thick black cliff face vaguely silhouetted against a gunmetal sky.

As he looked, an electric light appeared then disappeared, throwing the shape of a farmhouse into the inky night for a brief moment. It was enough to get their bearings. They were close now, just a few hundred yards away, and they hurried on, Molly and Adam ahead, Luke helping Roddy behind.

The path flattened out and Adam could suddenly hear something over the sound of the sea, the insistent rhythmic chug of a generator. He and Molly were almost at the building now, and he could make out a sliver of light at the bottom of the door. As they approached Adam realised it was a barn rather than a farmhouse, with no windows but a big, wide wooden door on the side facing them. He caught a whiff of a familiar smell as they reached the door and pushed it open.

‘Hello? Anyone here? We need help.’

Adam and Molly walked inside.

The room was taken up by two large stills of beaten-up, discoloured copper, linked by ramshackle pipes to a rusting still safe. In one corner of the barn sat a grubby mash tun and a large steel washback, in the other were dozens of hogsheads and butts of different sizes and colours of wood.

‘Holy crap,’ said Molly.

‘Is this what I think it is?’ said Roddy.

‘Yeah,’ said Adam, looking around. ‘An illegal still.’

‘What the fuck’s going on here?’

The voice from behind made them all turn.

Standing in the doorway was Joe in his police uniform, an impassive look on his face and a shotgun cradled in his elbow. Behind him was cousin Grant, tapping a side-handled baton against his leg.

Molly was first to move, walking towards him, hands out in front of her.

‘Joe, thank God,’ she said. ‘There’s been an accident.’

‘Accident?’

‘We drove our car over a cliff a few miles up the coast.’

‘And you walked all the way here?’

Molly nodded.

Joe turned slowly from Molly to the rest of them.

‘What happened to you?’ he said to Roddy, pointing at his shoulder.

Roddy’s face was pale in the striplit room. ‘Got a piece of shit car stuck in me.’

‘That Audi I pulled you up in?’

‘Yeah.’

‘
Vorsprung durch technik
, eh?’

‘Fucking tell me about it.’

Joe looked around. ‘Wasn’t there another one in your gang?’

They all looked down.

‘Ethan,’ said Adam. ‘He died in the crash.’

‘So there’s a smashed-up Audi and your mate’s body at the bottom of a cliff round the coast?’

‘Yeah,’ said Molly.

‘Which way?’

Molly looked confused and flustered. ‘East, but never mind that just now, we need to get to Bowmore Hospital, Roddy’s shoulder needs fixed, the rest of us are probably close to hypothermia.’

‘I’m just trying to get things straight,’ said Joe. ‘What were you doing on the Oa anyway?’

‘Looking at the old Stremnishmore distillery,’ said Adam.

‘What for?’

‘I want to start it up again.’

Joe laughed. ‘Did you hear that, Grant?’

Grant smiled to reveal a snaggle of browning teeth.

‘He wants to start up an old distillery, and now here he is standing in the middle of an illegal bootlegging operation,’ said Joe. ‘A bit suspicious, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Molly. ‘We got here just before you did.’

Roddy spoke to Joe. ‘What are
you
doing here, anyway?’

Joe looked at him, then at Grant.

‘Are you here to shut this place down?’ said Adam.

Joe laughed and Grant joined in, a sharp bark of a sound.

‘Not exactly,’ said Joe, stepping further inside with Grant and closing the door behind him.

He lifted the shotgun and pointed it at them.

‘We run this operation.’

The thrum of distillery equipment filled the silence between them for a few moments.

‘Oh fuck,’ said Roddy.

Molly looked at the shotgun and laughed nervously. ‘Come on, Joe, don’t be ridiculous.’

Joe levelled the gun at her as Grant took a pistol from the back of his trousers and pointed it at the rest of them.

‘Get over with them,’ Joe said to her.

‘This is stupid,’ said Molly. ‘What are you doing?’

Joe walked up to her. ‘I’m giving you an order, and I expect you to fucking obey it.’

‘Why? Because you’re the police, or because you’re my dickhead ex-husband?’

He jabbed the shotgun butt into her stomach, winding her. She doubled over. He backhanded her across the face as she struggled for breath. She fell to her knees gasping.

‘Now get your saggy fucking arse over with the rest of them where I can keep an eye on you.’

Molly struggled to her feet holding her face and shuffled over. They were standing in front of the larger of the two stills. Adam could feel the heat coming from it and smell the raw spirit in the air. He was starting to feel his feet again in his frozen shoes. His heart was bursting in his chest. He instinctively went for his watch then remembered it was broken.

Grant stood a few feet away, pointing the pistol. He had an ugly smile on his face, his eyes shifting between the four of them.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Serenity fucking now.

Molly had recovered and was glaring at Joe. ‘Look …’

‘Shut up,’ said Joe. He walked over to a beaten-up wooden table and chairs in the corner and slumped in a seat. The table was covered in junk – oily bits of machinery, plastic and glass bottles, petrol canisters, sheets of paper and strips of cloth. Joe lifted one of the canisters, unscrewed the lid and took a swig. He put the lid back on.

‘Heads up, Grantie.’

He flung the canister in Grant’s direction. Grant fumbled as he tried to catch it with one hand while also keeping an eye on the captives. He picked the canister up, dusted it off and took a big hit. His eyes widened and he puffed out his cheeks, then he screwed the lid back on and dropped it.

‘Joe …’ said Molly.

Grant stepped close to Molly and punched her in the belly.

‘He said shut up,’ he said, edging backwards and raising the gun. ‘How about you be a good girl and do what you’re told?’

Molly was hunched over, struggling to get air in her lungs. She eventually straightened and looked at Grant. ‘You’re a moron, you know that?’

‘That’s an interesting point of view considering who’s got the gun here,’ said Grant.

‘Haven’t you ever wanted to get a life of your own?’ said Molly. ‘Instead of being Joe’s pathetic lapdog?’

‘Would you like me to punch your face next time?’ said Grant.

‘Shut the fuck up!’ Joe screamed, jerking out of his seat and knocking the chair over. ‘Jesus.’

He put his hand to the back of his head and walked around for a while, then turned to Grant.

‘Watch them, I’ll be back in a minute.’

Joe left the barn. Grant’s eyes kept darting around, to the canister on the floor, over the four of them, at the spirit safe burbling away, never settling on anything. It made Adam queasy to watch.

After a couple of minutes Joe came back in carrying a jumble of plastic strips in his hand. He walked over and threw them on the ground at Grant’s feet. Adam saw they were hand and foot restraints, the kind they used on terrorists, like giant cable ties.

‘First things first,’ Joe said to Grant. ‘Tie these cunts up so they can’t escape.’

He turned to look at the four of them, his eyes narrowing.

‘Then we’ll decide what the fuck to do with them.’