Текст книги "Trail of Greed"

Автор книги: John Dysart

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter 25

The newcomer flashed a questioning look at Reid.

“What does he know?” he asked. “He’s only admitted to what is obvious but he hasn’t yet confessed to what he might have guessed. Neither has he told us if he has talked to anyone else.”

“That’s what’s critical. Even if he has guessed we can simply get rid of him and nobody will be any the wiser. If he has voiced his suspicions to anyone else we have a real problem on our hands.”

I looked up and tried to focus on the face of the man standing in front of me – the man I had last seen on the sixteenth tee of the golf course.

He was standing in front of me glowering. He lent forward, grabbed a handful of my hair and shook my head.

“Are you listening to me, Bob? Can you hear me?” There was controlled anger in his voice. I knew this man and I knew that it wouldn’t take much for him to lose that control. And he had his insane lieutenant to carry out whatever he was asked to do. I shuddered.

He took a step back and put his hands on his hips. His jaw was thrust out towards me and he proceeded to explain.

“You have got yourself in one hell of a mess and it’s entirely your own fault.” He practically spat the words at me.

“By sticking your nose into AIM and that petty little prick Purdy’s cash machine you’ve mucked up a much bigger operation. That idiot Dewar, who I had eating out of my hand, panicked, with the net result that I’ve had to get rid of him and now I have to reconstruct something to replace him. It’s going to set me back five years and I can’t afford that.”

His voice was getting louder. He was almost shouting. I needed to calm him down. If I could buy any time there was always hope.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I managed to mumble.

“I think you do,” he said. “You may be a pretty crummy golfer, but you aren’t stupid. You know that Dewar was getting paid by AIM.”

I nodded, “Sure,” I managed to get out. “He was blackmailing Purdy.”

“Like hell he was,” he retorted. “It was me who was blackmailing Purdy. And he was paying Dewar on my behalf. You maybe didn’t know that at the beginning but you worked it out later, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t going to do me any good to deny it. I figured I might as well admit that I had worked it out and see what it was he wanted from me.

I looked at him with disgust. I discovered afterwards that McDowell’s seemingly highly successful business was in severe financial trouble. He had borrowed up to the hilt and his only escape was to accelerate his growth to generate funds to reduce his debt burden. He had been on the danger of collapse and was willing to take desperate measures to survive.

I spoke slowly, trying to spin out the conversation as long as possible. I forced myself to ignore the pain in my legs and arm, which wasn’t easy. They were burning like hell.

“Yes, I worked it out. Dewar held a key position in the planning permission process and you were paying him to accelerate approvals for new supermarkets. You’re sitting on about twenty chunks of land that you have accumulated over the last few years and you need planning permission pushed through to build new stores.”

“You’re bloody right I do,” he fired back at me. “And you’ve buggered the whole thing up. I had to get rid of Dewar and now it’ll take me years to get them through thanks to all these bloody anti-supermarket groups floating around all over the place.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay for your stupidity.”

“What do you mean?” McDowell had walked over to the table by the wall and poured himself a whisky. He knocked it back in one gulp and slammed the glass down on the wooden surface. Reid was still standing off on one side watching. The other two hadn’t stirred from their chairs.

He swung round to face me. “Who else have you told? Who else knows? The new guy at AIM?”

Here was his problem. He could presumably rely on the other three to keep their mouths shut. If I had told nobody then he simply had to dispose of me and he was safe. If I had shared my information with anybody else he was in a mess.

“Nobody,” I replied, which, unfortunately, was the truth.

“I’m afraid I don’t believe you,” he said. “Here’s the bottom line. I need to be completely convinced that nobody else could suspect a relationship between me and Dewar and you’re the only person who can do that. As far as I’m concerned the only other people who could are here in this room. So far you haven’t convinced me.”

I reiterated my denial. “I’ve told absolutely nobody. I couldn’t, because until now it was only a theory. I had no proof.” I tried to sound as convincing as I could. “For God’s sake let me out of this chair and we can discuss this sensibly.”

“No. I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay there and go through a lot more pain. Once Mr Reid here is finished with you and you still stick to your story I might start to believe you. But until then, the jury’s out.”

I struggled again at my bonds. I yelled at him. “It won’t do any good. I can’t tell you something that’s not true. No matter what he does the answer’s always going to be the same. I’ve told nobody.”

All I got as a reply was, “We’ll see.” I collapsed back into the chair and watched with dread as he nodded at Reid and stepped back. Reid went for the poker again and the blowtorch. He picked up the blowtorch first and set it alight adjusting the flame to its fullest. He was about to bend down for the poker when the front window exploded inwards.

Not only did the window explode but Reid uttered a shriek and collapsed to the floor. All hell was let loose.

A split second after the explosion two masked figures in combat gear burst in through the window, followed a second or two later by a third.

They were fully armed. It was like a scene from a television SWAT team film. The first figure went straight for Firkin and MacLean in the corner and put them out of action with two swift blows to the head with what looked like a cosh.

The second man went straight for Keith McDowell and dropped him gasping to the ground with a thundering blow to the gut, just under the breast bone. He collapsed to the floor, retching and gasping for breath.

The third man went for Reid. But there was less need of speed in his case. He was writhing on the floor screaming. The explosion of the window must have been caused by a bullet because he was clutching his shattered right arm and there was blood all over his fingers. The blowtorch had fallen out of his hand and he had landed on top of it. The man hauled him off it to reveal his scorched shirt and chest. Reid was totally out of action trying to clutch his injured arm and his burnt chest at the same time and screaming in pain.

The whole episode must have taken no more than about ten seconds.

The three men then produced rolls of masking tape and proceeded to bind, gag and blindfold all four of their victims. There had been no speech between them. Without a word being spoken twenty seconds later my four tormentors had been totally immobilized.

I could only watch in amazement. It looked as if, against all the odds, I had been rescued. Waiting for someone to come over and cut me loose I heard the sound of the door opening and I tried to crane my neck round. I couldn’t. It hurt too much.

Someone came in quickly through the door and stepped round to the front of my chair. He crouched down and looked earnestly into my face. His eyes wandered over the sorry state of my legs. “Bob, are you OK?”

It was Pierre, concern showing on his welcome face. Never had I been more relieved in my life. I nodded speechlessly.

“Listen, we’ve not got much time,” he said quickly. “You’ll be fine now. We have to leave immediately. These guys can’t touch you anymore but I have to leave you as you are. The police will be here in about two minutes. We’ve got to get out before they arrive.”

I nodded dumbly. “I’ll explain later,” said Pierre. “Come on guys we’ve got to go.”

I could hear the sound of police sirens in the distance, but approaching quickly.

“OK, off you go.” I could see why they wanted to be gone before the police arrived.

The last words from Pierre were, “You don’t know what happened. You don’t know who rescued you. They were just three masked men. OK? If you plead total ignorance they’ll never find out. See you.”

And the four of them disappeared out of the window and off into the shadows of the gathering dusk.

I was left alone surrounded by four immobilized bodies who, just a few minutes before, had been intending to put me through unimaginable torture.

Two minutes later two police cars screeched to a halt in front of the house. I could see the blue flashing lights reflected against the remains of the front windows and within seconds six uniformed officers pounded into the room.

I recognised the man in charge immediately – Chief Inspector Bob Davis from St Andrews. I had played golf a couple of times with him in competitions.

He stopped, aghast at the sight in front of him. He looked at me, the four bodies and the shattered window.

“Jesus! Bob Bruce! What the hell’s been going on here?” “If you could just cut me free I’ll tell you – and I suggest you handcuff all these guys and take them into custody.”

He cut me loose as quickly as he could, looking with despair at my burns. He helped me to my feet but I couldn’t stand. I collapsed back into the chair.

“You need to get to the hospital as soon as possible,” he said, and called over two of his men. Before they helped me up I gave Bill a very quick explanation of what had happened, but not why.

“These two over there kidnapped me and brought me here. That one,” pointing to Reid, “has been torturing me. I think he has been shot and also burned. He’ll need medical care but, please, not at the same hospital as me!”

“And I think you know who that is” I added, pointing to Keith McDowell.

“I certainly do.” “Well, believe it or not he was the boss behind the whole business. He is accessory to torture and murder and I think you’ll find that one of these three will give you the evidence you need. Can you hold them all overnight?”

“Sure. But who tied them all up?” “I was rescued by three masked men in combat gear. They came in through the window, neutralised them all and then scarpered when they heard your sirens. God knows who they were but they’ve gone.

“Listen, could you get me to the hospital in Cupar please? And, if you come round tomorrow and I’m up to it, I’ll tell you the whole story. If you want to take photos of all this before your guys take me off, go ahead. I can hang on for a few minutes.”

Bill confirmed he would hold them all overnight and come and see me the next afternoon. He took photos of the scene, including my wounds and his two officers helped me out to the car and took me off to the hospital.

Chapter 26

On the car journey to hospital there was no conversation. I couldn’t have talked if I tried. I surrendered to the intense relief of being safe. I could bear the pain much more easily now that I knew there would be no more and that soon it would all heal and disappear. My wounds would leave a few scars but I honestly didn’t care.

The policemen arranged for me to be taken care of as soon as we arrived. My wounds were cleaned and dressed and, with a healthy dose of painkillers, I was installed in a private room and took no more than a few minutes to crash out.

I had been assured by Dr Bishan that they would all heal but that I was liable to have to stay in for four days. I hoped that the hospital bed crisis that we kept on hearing about would oblige them to let me home earlier. I managed to get one of the nurses to promise me that she would contact Fernie Castle and pass on my news to Pierre.

I awoke late the next morning bathed in sun streaming in through the curtainless, east-facing window of my room. I felt rested although uncomfortable. They had rigged up a cage across my legs to keep the weight of the blankets off my wounded thighs. My left arm was bandaged and strapped to my side.

My immediate reaction was a desire to get up and out of here, but as soon as I tried to move my legs or arm I changed my mind. That wasn’t going to be possible. The painkillers had worn off and any movement was excruciating agony. I gave in and accepted that I wasn’t going to be playing golf for a few days yet.

Breakfast was brought in to me by a cheerful nurse who helped me butter my toast as I only had one arm operational. I munched my way through three slices of toast and marmalade (I’d asked for an extra one!) and I reflected back on the previous evening’s events. I’d been damned lucky. Keith McDowell was a ruthless bastard. I had suspected that but I hadn’t realised how much of an issue I had created for him. I was convinced that he would have had no compunction in getting rid of me permanently. Gavin Reid was clearly round the bend. There’s probably some crazy title for his condition – post-adolescent mental pyromania disorder or some such cock-eyed term. As far as I was concerned he was just plain nuts and needed to be locked up. And I’m quite sure that anyone who had gone through what I had would agree with me.

With my hunger suitably satisfied I made myself as comfortable as I could, moving my limbs very gently, and tried to snooze.

I assumed that Bob Davis or one of his men would be round to visit to get my version of yesterday’s events but, in fact, my first visitor was Pierre. He had got my message at the hotel and he came round mid-morning.

I was delighted to see him. I had been wondering how he had managed his Seventh Cavalry stunt and I was desperate to ask him. He enquired after my well-being. I assured him that I was OK and that according to the doctor I would be out in a few days and my wounds would be healed up.

I now felt sufficiently safe to be able to unburden myself. So first I explained to Pierre how I had suspected what had been going on.

“It was weird. If you remember we had worked our way back to the lawyer, Reid, and the only person I knew who knew him was Keith McDowell. That in itself didn’t help me much, but suddenly I remembered the article I had read about the death of Dewar in the mountains. You probably didn’t notice it but it mentioned that he had been chairman of the Committee for Urban Planning. It was that that got me wondering. So I called my journalist friend in Edinburgh who did a little digging for me. He managed to find out that McDowell’s Group is sitting on about twenty plots of land around the country which, if he could get planning permission for building more of his bloody supermarkets, would be worth a fortune to him. That got me wondering if he had been feeding money to Dewar through Reid and Purdy’s crooked scheme at AIM in order to get planning permission pushed through more quickly. You know how difficult it is to get these things approved nowadays.

“It made some kind of sense. When we blew the AIM thing apart and Purdy disappeared he couldn’t bribe Dewar any longer and keep far enough in the background to be safe. He could have tried to set up some other way of channelling money to Dewar but that would have been difficult without creating a fairly direct line between them. He must have decided to cut his losses and get rid of any chance that anyone could trace anything back to him. So he got Gavin Reid and his henchmen to eliminate me and Dewar.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Pierre. “It seemed a bit far fetched at first. I wanted to find out more. I was going to tell you when I was sure. That’s why I invited McDowell for that game of golf. I thought I might be able to steer the conversation a bit and confirm my theory. One big mistake. He must have already decided that he needed me out of the way. But he also needed to be sure that I hadn’t spoken to anyone else. He wanted to know how much I knew or had guessed. Which explains all this.”

“What the hell did they do to you?” I explained briefly what had happened in that room and Pierre was very concerned and apologetic that they hadn’t got there in time.

“I presume your three helpers were Mike, Doug and Mac? But how did you know where I was?”

He then told me how he had been worried the last time he had seen me and when I hadn’t explained to him my thoughts he had had a chat with Mike. They had decided to put Mac and Doug on my tail for a few days just in case I was in any danger.

“They saw the kidnapping at the golf course but hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Doug followed the car and Mac got in touch with Mike and me. When Doug saw you tied to the chair in that front room he sounded the alarm. We got organized as soon as we could but, unfortunately, not fast enough to save you from all this. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be. I’ll recover and there’s no way any of these guys are going to wriggle out now. Kidnapping is one thing but kidnapping and torture is another. Bob Davis, the policeman, will make sure they go down for a very long time.

“Look Pierre, you’d better clear off now. I’m pretty sure the police will be round sometime today to take a statement from me and you’d better not be around when they come. I told them I had no idea who rescued me and I’ll stick to that. I don’t see any way they could guess. In fact they probably won’t want to. I’ll call you when they let me out and we’ll fill in all the other bits then.”

Pierre left, promising to thank the lads from me and to tell them I was more or less OK.

Bob Davis sent a sergeant round to take my statement in the early afternoon. I explained to him the bare facts – my kidnapping, a reasonably detailed account of Reid’s torturing, the arrival of Keith McDowell, the presence of Firkin and MacLean. I kept to the facts. I told him that there was no way I could identify my rescuers as they had been masked. I also told the sergeant that I would explain to his Inspector what the reasons were for the whole thing but I would prefer to wait a couple of days until I was more fully recovered.

“That’s alright, sir,” he said “This should be enough for us to be able to keep them in custody for the meantime. Inspector Davis asked me to tell you that he wished you a speedy recovery. The hospital told us that you would probably be allowed out the day after tomorrow.”

“Thanks, officer. Just tell Inspector Davis from me a couple of things which are not in my statement – that the death of the SMP Bill Dewar in the mountains is related to this whole business and it was not an accident. It was deliberate murder. It was ordered by Keith McDowell and carried out by Firkin and MacLean via Gavin Reid. If he puts a bit of pressure on them I think one of them will confess. As soon as I’m mobile I’ll come in and tell him all I know.”

The sergeant left. I was, I admit, a bit tired after my two visitors and looked forward to a quiet afternoon’s rest. The nurse gave me some more painkillers with my lunch and I was able to settle down for a relaxed snooze. I had a visit from the doctor who examined my wounds and assured me that, if I wanted to, I could probably leave the next day. There was no infection which was the thing he had been most concerned about.

I was woken up an hour or two later by a knock on the door and my friendly nurse popped her head round as she opened it.

“Got another visitor for you, Mr Bruce.” I wondered who this might be and tried to struggle up into a sitting position.

My first reaction was complete surprise but it was followed instantly by the realisation that this was just the visitor I wanted. She came a little tentatively into the room, her mouth shaped in a nervous smile and her eyes wide open with concern.

She made the few short steps across to my bed and took the outstretched hand that I raised to greet her.

“Lie still, Bob. You don’t need to move.” She sat down on the chair beside my bed, still holding my hand. “I came as soon as I heard. What’s happened to you? Are you going to be alright?”

Her eyes took in my strapped up arm and the cage across my thighs.

I was still so surprised that I hardly heard and didn’t answer her questions straight away.

“How did you get here? Who told you where I was?” Maggie relaxed when she heard my voice. “Don’t worry about that just now. I’m here – if that’s alright with you.”

“More than alright,” I answered with genuine feeling. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see. But how did you find out?”

“Your sister, Heather, phoned me as soon as she heard. She told me that you had been hurt and, if I wanted to see you, I should speak to a Pierre Collard at Fernie Castle Hotel and he would explain everything. So I just closed up the hotel and came as soon as I could.”

“But why did Heather . . .?” “I met Heather, if you remember, when she came to pick you up the last time you got yourself in a mess. She guessed that I would want to know and she guessed also that you would probably be fairly happy to see me. Was she right?”

I smiled at her. “She’s too bloody smart, that woman.” “The doctor told me that you can get out tomorrow so, if you like, I’ll come and take you home.”

“And look after me like you did the last time?” “Maybe,” she replied mischievously. “Depends on how these wounds of yours are.”

“They’ll heal,” I said.

“Yes, they’ll heal.”