Thursday legends

43

They beat the plane to the General Aviation terminal by ten minutes. They stood side by side outside the building which had once served all of Edinburgh's air traffic, looking at its impressive and ever-expanding replacement across the old north-south runway.

Skinner had no idea what type of aircraft to expect, but even he was impressed when an RAF Tornado streaked in to land.

'Every time Adam Arrow shows up,' he shouted to Mario McGuire over the noise of the engine roar as the pilot eased the plane back to taxiing speed, 'it means trouble. For him to arrive like this, it means BIG trouble.'

'What is he, exactly?' the Inspector asked.

'The fact that you're a Special Branch officer and yet are asking me that says a lot in itself.' Skinner could speak quietly again, as the plane approached.

'Adam is everything. He was SAS, but now he's in charge of all MoD security and intelligence gathering, with the power to do things you would never want to tell your grandchildren about.'

'Who's his boss?'

'God, I think, but maybe he's under surveillance too.' 'What rank is he?'

'At this moment? I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter. That little man climbing out of that aeroplane could, if necessary, make a Field Marshal, Air Marshal or an Admiral of the bloody Fleet disappear off the face the earth.' As he spoke, Arrow jumped down from the navigator's seat and came bustling across the runway towards them. He was small, but built like a spinning top; massive shoulders tapering down through a stocky waist to short legs with little feet. His hair was cropped close and he was wearing civilian clothes — dark trousers, white shirt, an MCC tie and a check jacket.

'Morning, Bob,' he said, with a cheeriness which made McGuire wonder how he could possibly be the figure Skinner had described.

'Morning, Captain, Major, or whatever it is now…'

'Major, it says on my door.'

'What's with the tie?'

'My one aspiration to fookin' toffhess.'

'God, you've sold out.' Skinner looked back over his shoulder to the Inspector. 'You remember our Head of SB, Mario McGuire, don't you?'

'Sure, from way back.' Arrow reached across and shook hands; an astonishingly strong grip for a man of his size.

'What's the crisis then, Adam?'

'I'll show you when we get there; there should be a chopper about here somewhere.' He looked around the terminal until he spotted a big grey-green helicopter around a hundred yards away, a pilot standing beside it. 'Come on.'

The pilot saluted as they approached, speaking quietly to Arrow as he ushered them up the few built-in steps to the passenger space.

'He says we're flying back south over the City by-pass, and up into the Pentland Hills. There's Army ground up there…'

He shouted suddenly as the helicopter's engine roared into life. '… as you probably know.'

Something bit at the back of McGuire's mind; something ominous.

There was no conversation as the chopper took off, or as they rose and flew over the Gyle Centre and the impressive, and growing, commercial township known as Edinburgh Park, towards the dominating hills to the south. Instead the three men wore big ear-protectors, against the noise.

They had been flying for less than fifteen minutes when the helicopter began to circle. Arrow pointed downwards, and shouted something. Skinner could not make out a word, but he guessed that the pilot was looking for a safe landing area on the rising hillside. Then he saw a flare, burning on the ground on what appeared to be a flat area. Sure enough, they began to descend.

As Skinner and McGuire jumped out, each ducking instinctively under the decelerating rotor arm, they saw two red-capped soldiers a distance away, where the hill began to slope, standing beside a green Land Rover.

One wore sergeant's stripes; the other approached. 'Mr Arrow,' he began. 'Colonel Fielding, Military Police.' McGuire noted the odd deference; from Colonel to Major. 'Glad you could get here so quickly; a real bloody mess this is.'

The soldier ignored the two policemen; Skinner bridled. 'Then maybe you'd tell us about it, Colonel. I'm Deputy Chief Constable Bob Skinner and this is Detective Inspector Mario McGuire. What is this and, since we're on military property, what the hell does it have to do with us?'

Fielding looked at him. 'I'll show you presently,' he said, coldly. 'Get into the vehicle. Once I've briefed Mr Arrow, we'll take you to it.'

A large part of the DCC wanted to point out to the Colonel that in equivalent ranking terms he was addressing a general; he might have done it too, had Arrow not stepped in. 'Let's not fanny about, Colonel,' he said quietly. 'Just take us there, now.'

'Very good,' the man replied, as stiff as his uniform.

The Land Rover was even less comfortable than the helicopter, it bounced over the rough terrain as the sergeant driver made his way round the hillside, then down, then round once more until he drew carefully to a halt, on an upslope.

Skinner glanced up as he climbed out; two more military policemen stood at the top of the crest, carrying carbines, on guard.

'This way,' Fielding called out, briskly and led them up the slope. 'There,' he said, as he reached the top, with something like awe in his voice.

Arrow, Skinner and McGuire stood on the rim of a small clearing. In the centre, on its back, lay the body of a man. It, and the area around it, was soaked in blood; the head was thrown back, and the throat gaped open.

The trio gazed at the sight in silent horror, until McGuire let out a half-gasp, half-cry of relief.

'What is it, Mario?' Skinner asked.

'I thought they were going to show us Andy Martin, Boss.'

He stepped down into the clearing, leading the other two as they approached the corpse and walked around it in a wide circle.

'Christ,' Skinner murmured. 'Is that a finger, bitten off?' No-one answered; no need. 'His throat's been torn out. What the pluperfect fuck did that? Is there a circus animal on the loose up here? Or are you guys training vampires as soldiers now? And how does this relate to…'

'I can tell you what did it,' Fielding broke in, quietly. 'Just under three hours ago, a platoon of Scots Guards was on exercise not far from here, when they heard two gunshots. There was supposed to be no-one else on the hill, so they investigated.' He pointed to the blood-drenched body. 'They found this. On top of him, was a man. His hands were tied tight behind his back, and his face and torso were covered in blood. He was gripping a Colt pistol, and his teeth were locked tight into this thing's throat.

'He had killed him, gentlemen, not even with his bare hands; he had killed him like an animal.'

Skinner stared at him, numbly, trying to comprehend what he was being told.

'At first, the soldiers thought they were both dead. Then when they touched the man on top, he went berserk. He was incoherent, swearing, rambling. They had to take him forcibly from the body and restrain him a little away. Then they called for Military Police and medical assistance.

'While they were waiting, they searched him. He wasn't wearing a jacket, but on a chain around his neck, they found a police warrant card, identifying him as Detective Chief Superintendent Andrew Martin.'

In spite of himself, the DCC felt his throat go dry and his knees go weak. Unseen by anyone else, Adam Arrow grabbed his elbow, supporting him. 'Where is he now?' he asked, hoarsely.

'He was put under heavy sedation by the medics and airlifted to the Hospital Unit at Glencorse Barracks.'

'What else did you find here?' McGuire asked.

'Only that pistol. There were two discharged rounds in the magazine and four live bullets scattered around, one of them at the dead man's feet, almost hidden from sight.

'Now,' the MP colonel continued, his tone conciliatory for the first time, 'can you gentlemen tell me who this is and what's happened here?'

'I can,' said the Head of Special Branch. 'This man here was one Lawrence Scotland, who's been under my department's surveillance for years. He was once a professional assassin, involved in Ireland on the Loyalist side, with several known kills to his name, but he had been inactive for some time.

'Last night Mr Martin went, alone, to pick him up for interview in relation to a current murder investigation. Scotland wasn't assessed as a real suspect, or as a risk, but he had had dealings in the past with the dead man.' He looked at the MP.

'Tell me something. The two spent cartridges in the gun; were they in successive chambers, side by side?'

Fielding walked across the clearing; none of them had noticed the gun lying there; he picked it up, and broke the breech. 'No. There's an empty chamber between them.'

'Aye, I thought so. This is what happened. I must have been wrong in my assessment of Scotland. He must have been involved in that murder after all. When DCS Martin turned up to interview him, he took him prisoner and brought him up here to kill him.

'Only he decided to have a bit of fun first; play a game of Russian Roulette. He underestimated his man though. While Andy Martin's breathing, he's dangerous. Scotland made a mistake somewhere along the line and DCS Martin, hands tied and all, just tore right through him.'

The MP frowned. 'But why would he bring him up here to kill him?'

'Sorry, Colonel,' Skinner intervened, his composure recovered. 'That part of the story's for Mr Arrow's ears only. Adam, I want you to take me to see Andy, right away.'

'Sure. We'll take the chopper there now.'

'But what about this?' Fielding protested, pointing at the ravaged body. 'What do I do with him?'

'Get a shovel,' the DCC snapped. 'I want him buried up here. Your people, and the soldiers who found them, I want them all told that they've been hallucinating. This never happened. Lawrence Scotland goes on our missing-persons list, only we won't be looking for him.'

The MP turned to Arrow. 'Do it,' said the little man, in a flat, clipped tone. 'I will speak personally to all the men involved. If they want to have army careers, indeed if they want to have futures at all, they will do what I tell them.'

The Colonel made a mistake. He frowned. 'I don't know…' he began.

Arrow stepped up close to him; very close. 'Listen,' he whispered. 'If that man there asked me to bury you up here, I'd start digging. So: do as you're told.'