The Last Witness (31 page)

40

There was an ominous silence as the two boats, tied together, heaved in the heavy swell.

MacDougall, slumped against the side of the vessel, stared from Sarah to Machie. The former appeared genuinely appalled, while his old partner merely looked bored.

‘So what, darlin’?’ said Machie. ‘I telt ye a lie, so fuckin’ what?’ Knowledge is, in the end, based on acknowledgement. Know whit I mean? C’mon, Sarah, blow this cunt away. The past is the past. We’ve got a future together with mair money than either o’ us will ever need.’

‘Fuck you!’ she shouted, still pointing the gun at her father.

‘That’s the fuckin’ spirit, doll,’ said Machie, curling his lip in anticipation. ‘The auld order changeth. Time tae move on. Go for it!’

Sarah MacDougall’s face emptied, suddenly devoid of the pain, confusion and revulsion of only moments before. She stepped back, not taking her gaze from her father, and raised the gun with both hands to point it directly at his heart. She stopped, as a sob shook her slender frame.

‘Sarah, I love you,’ her father pleaded. ‘I never stopped loving ye, any of ye.’ He looked at his beautiful daughter, the
apple of his eye, as she squinted down the barrel of the handgun, ready to take his life. Despite himself, he closed his eyes in a silent prayer.

‘I know what you’re like, what you’re all like. Maybe it’s even my true nature, God help me,’ she said. ‘You go all out to get what you want with your charm, false kindness, generosity, empathy, the works. How is anyone to know the truth? And when there’s nothing to be gained, you turn; you turn on friends, family, anyone who’s in your way. Even the ones you love. You are a true sociopath.’ Her hands began to shake.

‘Fuck you,’ Sarah shouted. ‘And fuck Wittgenstein.’ In one fluid motion, she pivoted on her heel then discharged two shots in rapid succession.

Frank MacDougall opened his eyes just in time to see the look of amazement on James Machie’s face as he tumbled backwards over the low side of the boat and disappeared, with hardly a splash, into the freezing sea.

‘Darlin’, thank you. Thank you,’ MacDougall croaked, his voice constricted with emotion.

‘Believe me, Daddy,’ she said, looking over the side of the vessel. ‘You have nothing to thank me for.’ A wisp of smoke issued from the barrel of the pistol, now held at her side, as she searched the waves for Machie’s body.

‘Aye, you’re my daughter, right enough,’ said MacDougall. ‘I’ve seen it mair an’ mair o’er the years.’ Slowly, he levered himself from the deck, then reached behind his back, as though he was about to scratch it.

‘Oh, and you’re an angel,’ she replied, not taking her eyes from the choppy waves.

‘No, you’re quite right, pet lamb. An angel, I’m certainly no’. So, drop the gun. It’s clear ye’ve still got a lot tae learn.’

‘Don’t call me that.’ She spun around to see MacDougall slumped against the side of the vessel, pointing a black revolver at her.

‘Families, eh, who’d have them?’ He smiled.

She was about to reply when MacDougall held his fingers to his lips, a gesture familiar from her childhood, and one that she obeyed. They listened, as from somewhere overhead the powerful blades of a helicopter sounded above the crashing of the nearby whirlpool.

‘Quick,’ shouted MacDougall. ‘Get on the cruiser an’ let’s get tae fuck. Help me release these ropes.’ He straightened up, ignoring the pain, all the time keeping the gun trained on his daughter. ‘Think aboot it,’ he said when he saw her hesitate. ‘Dae ye no’ think the polis will work oot whit ye’ve been up tae? Didnae think I didnae have a good idea whit wiz goin’ on? Gie me some credit,’ he said. ‘Fuck me. Wi’ your brains, we can even go legit, but ye’ve got tae help me. Let’s put the past behind us and get away fae here.’

‘And what about Mum?’

‘Yer mum’s what she’s goin’ tae be; there’s nae betterment there. I’ll make sure she gets the best treatment. There’s things you don’t know, lots o’ things. She’ll be looked efter, I promise ye. Dae ye think she’s been happy stayin’ at the ferm o’er the last few years?’ MacDougall stood with one foot on the side of the vessel, ready to launch himself onto the bigger boat. ‘It’s obvious the cops are intae yer little business. How long dae ye think it’ll be before ye end up in the same shit I’ve been in a’ ma life?’

‘So we just carry on, pretend nothing has happened? Leave my poor mother to rot?’

‘The way I see it, we’ve nae choice. Oh, an’ by the way, while we’re talking aboot loyalty tae yer parents, you were the one aboot tae kill me.’

‘I wanted revenge . . . for Cisco,’ she replied, scanning the sky for the helicopter.

‘Dae ye really think I’d have killed my own son? That’s near as stupid as you thinking JayMac wid have let me live. Look whit he did tae Gerald,’ MacDougall spat. ‘C’mon, Sarah, it’s noo or never.’

She hesitated for a moment, then jumped nimbly into the other vessel, bending to untie one of the ropes that bound the cruiser to the small fishing boat she and Machie had arrived on, as MacDougall did the same further down the deck.

‘Oor only chance is tae make fir a wee bay or somethin’, set the boat adrift and hide oot for a while until they give up. That chopper’ll spot us, so we’ll head one way, then change direction, an’ make for the inlet o’er on that bit o’ land o’er there,’ he said, gesturing at the low smear of coastline in the distance. It was only mid afternoon, but already the light was leaching from the sky.

MacDougall saw Sarah’s nod, and put his gun away. He limped to the cabin, and in moments the powerful engines of the cruiser roared into life.

‘The Coastguard report two vessels, less than three miles from here,’ shouted Newell. ‘One of them is making towards an inlet and the open sea beyond.’

‘What about the other?’

‘Moving much more slowly, probably drifting.’

‘How long will it take us to get there?’ asked Daley.

‘Minutes. We’ve got to get Dunn winched aboard the helicopter though,’ replied Newell.

‘I know, I know. Ah, here they are now.’ Daley pointed upwards to the large red-and-white helicopter that was growing steadily bigger as it approached them.

‘I’m OK, sir,’ shouted DC Dunn, still shivering under the thermal blanket. ‘I don’t need to go, just get after them.’

‘No. You’re going to get treatment,’ Daley said, making it plain that the conversation was at an end. He thought of James Machie: why did he have that feeling in his chest, the horrible knot that normally presaged some disaster?

MacDougall steered the craft on a bearing of thirty-five degrees until the large helicopter thudded by. He was surprised that the aircraft had not doubled back on itself in order to check them out again but he stuck to his original plan, swinging round the wheel of the cabin cruiser to head for the inlet.

Sarah was at the back of the cabin, sitting forward with her head in her hands. ‘I suppose I’ve been stupid,’ she said, after a long silence.

‘If ye mean by trusting JayMac, then, aye, ye have.’ MacDougall peered into the fading light of the afternoon.

‘I promise you, I just wanted to find out the truth. I would never have let him harm you. He listened to me, you know.’

MacDougall faced the young woman who, up until a few minutes ago, he had thought he knew so well. ‘Sarah, you can never control people like him, no’ if ye live tae be a hunner’ an’ fifty. I’ve known that bastard fir maist o’ my life; trust me, he’d have killed me, an’ then when he got fed up wi’ you, he wid’ve killed you an’ all.’

Sarah made to speak, but found she had nothing to say. She suddenly felt dirty, foolish and ashamed. In her heart she knew her father was right and that, subconsciously or not, she had known it from the very beginning. The shock of finding out that the pitiless individual she had been in league with was responsible for the murder of Cisco, the brother she loved so much, was only just beginning to sink in. She realised it was something that she would be forced to wrestle with for the rest of her life.

She looked across at the spare frame of the man piloting the vessel towards the inlet. In that split second, she knew she had made the right decision. In killing James Machie she had avenged her brother’s death.

‘Listen,’ said MacDougall. There was no doubt; above the low purr of the cabin cruiser’s engines, the repetitive thud of helicopter blades was unmistakable.

41

Daley watched as DC Dunn was hoisted onto the helicopter, which then, with a huge downdraft that sent the RIB spinning in the water, sped away.

‘Secure your belts,’ Newell shouted, as the inboard diesel engine burst into life. ‘We’ll head for the coordinates they gave us.’

‘Fuck me,’ said Scott. ‘I hope ma harness is a bit better than poor wee Dunn’s. I thought she wiz a goner there.’

‘Me too,’ Daley replied, stretching the webbing restraint over his belly. He still had the knot in his stomach, bred from some subconscious instinct that made him most uneasy. He looked at the officers from the Firearms Unit, all strapped into their seats, straight-backed and professional, then at DS Scott, who was swearing at his safety harness as he tried to find the anchor point.

A few minutes later, with everyone strapped in and Newell happy that the vessel was still seaworthy after the trauma of Corryvreckan, they set off. Not much later, however, Newell bent down to shout in Daley’s ear: ‘I have an update from the Coastguard helicopter. One vessel, a cabin cruiser, has just been spotted heading up an inlet on the coast near Staffay. I know it pretty well, great place to spot otters.’

‘OK. How long will it take us to get there?’

‘Not long. Even though they’re in a fast boat, it’s not as fast as this, and they’ll have to slow down now they’re in shallow waters.’

‘Might be slower, but I bet you any fuckin’ money it’s warmer and drier,’ Scott shouted to no one in particular.

Ignoring the irascible DS, Newell continued. ‘Strange thing is, no sign whatsoever of the small vessel – the fishing skiff. It seems to have disappeared.’

‘What do you think that means?’ asked Daley.

‘Hard to say. If they’ve abandoned one vessel to the mercy of the whirlpool, it could quite easily be at the bottom of the sea by now. My guess is they were spooked by the chopper and are trying to make an escape in the faster boat.’ Newell seemed confident in his deduction.

‘But surely once they go up the inlet they’re trapped?’

‘No, not really. This inlet is more like a mini channel. It narrows dramatically, but you can proceed along its length in a small craft and out into the open sea. Have to be careful, mind, but it’s a good short cut. Whoever is navigating seems to know what they’re doing.’

Daley sat back in his seat as the trim of the vessel changed. They bounced across the waves, mercifully in a much more restrained manner than earlier. Despite the cold day, a bead of sweat appeared on Daley’s forehead as he battled the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

‘Fuck me, here we go again,’ Scott moaned, just before he retched.

MacDougall squinted into the distance, along the length of the inlet. He was relieved to see that it was open-ended; he
could see the open sea, and the purple shadow that was the island of Islay.

‘I think we can get through,’ said Sarah. She was sitting at the map table, studying a huge sea chart she had found rolled into a cardboard tube in the cabin. Though her working knowledge of such a document was patchy, she could figure out which figures referred to the clearance between boat and rocks.

‘I’m still worried aboot that fuckin’ helicopter,’ MacDougall said, shaking his head. I’m no’ sure if they didnae see us, even though we were in the lee o’ the island.’

‘So, what are they going to do? How do they know it’s us anyway?’

MacDougall paused, then turned to face her. ‘Listen, you don’t know everything, darlin’.’

Sarah looked confused.

‘At first I had nae idea you were behind the drugs and tobacco shit. Though I had my suspicions.’ He sighed. ‘Oor Tommy wiz helping me oot. You know he couldnae keep his trap shut’ MacDougall’s voice caught at the mention of his dead son.

‘Yes, I might have known. Helping you out with what, exactly?’

‘Listen, ye don’t get much on witness protection, I can tell you. I had tae dae somethin’.’

‘Were you working with the police? Oh no, you’ve been helping them investigate me.’

‘It wisnae just any cop, it—’ MacDougall wasn’t given time to explain, as the vessel jolted violently on a reef at the bottom of the inlet, and he was flung to the floor.

‘Daddy are you OK?’

‘Aye, aye,’ MacDougall replied, picking himself off the floor, ‘but I think that’s the boat fucked!’

John Donald looked around the table. He was used to dominating such meetings, however, in this case, he was not in the chair; in fact, he was very low in the pecking order indeed.

‘Our objective is at hand, gentlemen.’ The thin man standing beside a projector screen smiled as he spoke. ‘We may have had to use, let’s say,
unconventional
methods, but here we are, success almost within our grasp.’

‘Yes, but is it though?’ questioned an older man. ‘If it were to emerge that we used one of the most dangerous men this country has ever seen as a lure to catch a true monster, then we’ve failed.’ He paused for effect. ‘The consequences for us, as an organisation, could be terminal.’

Donald saw his opportunity. ‘May I say, according to the most recent reports, my men are well on the way to bringing resolution to this mess. Some of my best men, you know,’ he said, smiling smugly, as though he was in possession of information the others weren’t.

‘So you say, Donald,’ said the thin man, making Donald bridle. ‘What, though, will we do if things do go awry?’

‘That won’t be a problem,’ said Donald. ‘These same men will take the fall – QED.’ He sat back in his chair, savouring the murmur of approval around the table.

‘Up ahead,’ said Newell. ‘We’re just about to enter the inlet. We’ll have to slow down a bit.’ Sure enough, in thirty seconds, the boat settled its nose into the water.

‘Whit the fuck,’ said Scott pointing into the distance.