Chapter Thirty One

Lilith

The study looked misleadingly cosy.  The fire in the hearth had been rekindled, giving the room a warmth and soft glow it didn’t deserve, and Nat was working by the light of a green glass desk lamp.   By the time I got there he had switched Blaine’s computer on, and was busy adjusting the office chair to his satisfaction. 

I set down an ice bucket and an armful of blankets, tracksuit bottoms and sweaters onto the coffee table and joined Finn on the divan, where he had already lit his first cigarette.  He was as edgy as hell.

Nat  had his washkit with him and emptied the contents out onto Blaine’s desk.  He held up a small tube of toothpaste and a pack of razorblades to show me.  ‘Memory stick and external hard drive.  Pretty cool, huh?’

‘What, that’s it?’ Finn asked.

‘That’s it.’ Nat pulled the lid off the toothpaste to reveal a USB connector.  ‘All I need for a brute force attack.  I’ll be feeding millions of passwords through an encryption algorithm…’

‘And again, in English?’

‘Just think of it as bludgeoning down Blaine’s front door.’

‘Now that I can imagine.  But it just seems kinda… insignificant for what you’re goin’ to have to do.  There’s no way she would want this stuff leaking out into the world.  If this thing doesn’t work…’  Finn’s anxiety was an entirely unneeded reminder of what was at stake, and I doubted that any of his concern was for his own skin.

If Nat was in the least nervous about the role he was playing in our scheme, he hid it beautifully.  ‘Look, from what Lilith’s told me, and what I’ve seen so far, Blaine’s a collector.  Which means she’ll want to be able to look through that collection whenever she wants, yeah?’  He adopted the same laid-back tone he would use in Santa Marita, when discussing which bar we might go to.  ‘Think of it as her own virtual gallery.  She’ll reckon that her IT guy’s some kind of genius – which, hey, he might well be, but he’s nothing compared to me.  Anyway, it’ll make her believe that anything that goes on behind the wall can be as sick as she wants it to be.’

‘Sounds familiar,’ I said.

Nat plugged the disguised memory stick into Blaine’s desktop. ‘So once I’m in, I can pretty much guarantee that everything I’ll need is going to be laid out in front of me, probably in alphabetical order with a nice, handy index.’

‘But you can’t be sure?’  There was real anguish in Finn’s voice now. 

‘I can never be a hundred percent sure.’  Nat calmly turned his chair away from the desk to face us.  ‘Look, mate, I don’t know if Lilith told you, but I’ve done this before –  I spent two years of a Masters degree writing programmes to catch sick bastards.  Right now there are five men still doing time because they were stupid enough to think a password was going to keep me out of their grubby little collections, and I fully intend to make it six after tonight.  Now go and get that bloody knee sorted out, will you?’

*****

Finn dragged himself off to change his outfit, then begrudgingly sat next to me and rolled up the leg of his tracksuit.  Even the soft jersey fabric brushing against his skin made him wince, and what he revealed was barely recognisable as a knee.  The whole joint was swollen and hot to the touch, and had already begun to turn an interesting shade of claret where the tip of Coyle’s boot had connected.

‘Oh good grief, Finn,’ I sighed.  ‘I am so bloody glad this is the last time I’ll do this.’

‘I think it’s touching that the fucker gave me something to remember him by,’ Finn said, then fell quiet as I tentatively explored the misshapen kneecap with my fingertips.

‘That utter cunt of a man.’ I packed handfuls of ice into a towel and twisted it into a parcel.  ‘At a guess, I’d say it was your anterior cruciate ligament.’

Nat looked up from the screen and grimaced. ‘Ouch.’

‘How do you know all this shit?’  Finn asked.  ‘The first time you did this for me, you were rattling off all the Latin – thought you were cursing me at first.’

‘I probably was,’ I smiled, remembering.  ‘It was a course of anatomy lessons years ago, when I was just starting out.  I went out with a junior doctor, just so he’d let me into the hospital morgue at night.  I spent two solid months reading all his textbooks and sketching cadavers from dusk ‘til dawn, then dumped the poor sod.’

‘Really?’  He watched me for a while to see if I was being serious.  ‘Y’know, I’m not sure if that’s normal, Lili.’

I shrugged.  ‘It worked for Géricault.’

‘If you say so.’  Finn paused to take a low breath as I slid a small silk-covered cushion under his leg.  ‘God, there’s so much I don’t know about you, isn’t there?  A whole lifetime of things I don’t have a single clue about.’

‘And so very soon we’ll have all the time we need to catch up.’  I paused in my nursing duties to kiss him on the lips.  He returned the gesture and I packed the ice-filled towel around his knee.  Meltwater trickled down onto the delicate fabric of the cushion and the floral pattern’s subtle colours began to run and merge, ruining it forever. 

‘Ah, what a shame,’ Finn said with satisfaction.  ‘I think you’ve fucked it.’

‘Whoops.  Right, that’s about the best I can do.  We’ll find a proper doctor tomorrow,  but for now, keep it elevated and keep it still, do you hear me?’

Finn rolled his eyes.  ‘You have distinct dominatrix tendencies, woman.  What if I need a piss?’

‘Then I’m sure there’ll be a Ming vase lurking around somewhere.’

*****

At half past one in the morning, Nat suddenly pushed his chair back and linked his hands behind his head. 

Finn gripped my wrist.   What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing at all, mate.  Nothing at all,’ Nat said.  ‘To quote every Hollywood hacker cliché in existence, I’m in.’

I gave Finn’s hand a squeeze and stood up.  ‘I’d better go and shout Henry.’

*****

Gabriel escorted Henry right to the door of the study and patted him firmly on the back.  ‘It’ll be all right, I promise.’

‘And you’re sure you’ll be okay by yourself, Gabriel?’ Henry asked.  ‘If anything happens, or you hear anything, or need -’

‘Henry, there are busier graveyards than this place.  I’ll be fine.’

‘Yes, but -’

‘If there’s the slightest problem I hereby promise to scream like a girl,’ Gabriel said, then looked across at me. ‘Sorry.’

‘I’ll forgive you this time,’ I said.  ‘How’s the new job going?’

‘On balance, I’d say I prefer performing in front of a few thousand adoring women, but ‘Security Guard at the Castle of the Damned’ comes a pretty close second.  I should be fine, as long as there are no ghosts.’

‘Well done.’

‘Thanks.  It’s just really… weird, basically.  We’ve got a couple of guests in the larder, the big Irish axe-murderer’s in Finn’s room, Dalziell’s in that bloody torture chamber set-up with the two weird American guys, and Her Ladyship’s in the wine cellar.  Everyone’s out for the count, it’s dark, cold, and as spooky as all shit.’  For a second Gabriel’s self-assured façade slipped away, then he squared his shoulders.  ‘Right then, better go and see if anyone needs room service, eh?  Good luck, all of you.’

‘Watch out for the White Lady,’ I called at his retreating back,  and he flicked me two fingers.  I shut the door to keep the heat in the room,  and returned to Finn’s side.  He lit another cigarette and shut his eyes.

Nat clicked the mouse and a spreadsheet filled the screen.  ‘Well thank you very much, Lady Albermarle.  See?  Sheet after sheet of names, addresses, even telephone numbers, all in alphabetical order.  The document’s even called ‘Address Book’.  The depraved clearly have no imagination whatsoever.  Not that I’m complaining.’  He clicked through a couple of pages.  ‘And there we go.  ‘Henry Masterson: Contacts’ and ‘Finn Strachan: Contacts’, complete with notes. Oh, sometimes it’s very nice indeed to be right.’

Henry bunched an immaculate handkerchief in his hands.  ‘What does it say?’  

‘Let’s see.’  Nat reopened the page.  ‘Oka-ay – according to this, your mum’s in a care home – Safe Harbours –  in Westhill, just outside Aberdeen.  Booked in as ‘Audrey Smith’.’

‘I’d never have found her,’ Henry said in a small voice.  ‘I mean, who would think of Aberdeen?  And ‘Smith’?  There must be thousands of Smiths out there…’  he used his handkerchief to dab at his eyes.  ‘Oh my.  Thank you so much…  I’ll just sit here and compose myself for a minute, if I may?’  He blew his nose, and added, ‘Marguerite.  That’s her name.  Marguerite Masterson.  Not bloody ‘Audrey’.’ 

‘I’ll make sure that gets passed on, mate,’ Nat said, then turned to Finn. 

‘Oh Christ,’  Finn murmured and buried his head in his arms.  ‘I don’t… Shit, Lili…’

‘It’s okay.  It’ll be okay, I promise,’ I soothed, and wrapped my arms around him. 

‘It’s your sisters, yeah?’ Nat asked, and Finn nodded in reply, beyond speaking.  ‘Yup.  Here we are.  Looks like Niamh’s got herself a flat in somewhere called Finglas, and Sinéad’s living with her.’

Finn took a deep breath.  ‘Finglas.  Does it… does it say how they’re doing?’ he asked.

Nat scrolled down.  ‘Um, yeah – Niamh’s in her first year of midwifery training, and got a boyfriend who’s a tattoo artist.  Sinéad’s in her third year at secondary school – bit of a rebel, according to this, but doing okay… Bass player in a goth band -’

Finn gave an involuntary choked sob. ‘The bitch. Oh, that fucking, fucking bitch.’

Nat left the computer to crouch by Finn’s side.  ‘Hey, take it easy!  I’m sorry – is there something wrong with the info? I mean, that’s all good, isn’t it?’

‘She said…  she said they were on the fucking game, didn’t she?  Told me they’d followed their arsehole of a big brother into the family business…’  He finally unfurled his arms to look at me, his face filled with anguish.  ‘And I fucking believed her.  Stupid bastard that I am…’

Nat placed a hand on Finn’s arm.  ‘You know, I really think it’s time we finished her now, yeah?’ 

*****

You want to make the call?’  Nat picked up the telephone and held it out to Henry, who was now attempting to wear a path in the Turkish rug with his constant pacing.  He stared at the handset in complete horror.

‘Oh no.  No.  I couldn’t.  I wouldn’t know what to say, where to start…’

Finn dragged on his cigarette and rested his forehead on the arm of the divan.  ‘Sort that man out.  Now,’ he whispered, ‘because if he doesn’t shut up and stand still I will kill the little fucker.’

‘It’s okay,’ Nat said, hastily.  ‘I’ll do it.  I’ll put it over the speaker, shall I?’  He pressed a series of buttons and the digitised sound of a phone ringing filled the room.  After an eternity, there was a muted click.

‘Hell-o?’

I recognised the voice immediately, and Nat gave me a thumbs-up.  ‘Can I ask who this is, please?’ he asked.

‘This is Sergeant Edward Newton, Northumbria Police. But you can call me Ed.’

Nat grinned.  ‘Evening, Ed.  Good to talk to you again.’

‘How’s it going there, son?  Everyone okay?’

‘Hello, Call-Me-Ed,’ I said.  ‘It’s Lili here.’

‘Well it’s lovely to hear your voice, sweetheart.  And that lad of yours?’

‘He’s here.  He’s good.  Just about in one piece.’

‘That’s very good to hear.’  There was genuine relief in Ed’s voice.  ‘I’m so bloody sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you.  The Chief Inspector was a bit keen to have his mates handle the case – should have known the dodgepot was up to something.  We’ll get things sorted now though, love.  I promise.’

‘Good.  Because I really want to go home.’

‘Well let’s make a start, shall we?  Nat – have you got some addresses for me, son?’

‘Yup,’ Nat said.  ‘Have you got a pen handy?’

*****

The porcelain trinket dish that Finn was using as an ashtray began to overflow as he stubbed out one cigarette after another, and the study was enveloped in a haze of smoke.  I sat by him and watched the snow whirl against the glass and pile up on the windowsills.

At twenty past two, the phone rang again.

‘Here we go,’ Nat said, and picked up.  ‘Hi there.’

‘Ed Newton, reporting in.’  His equable voice filled the room.  ‘Everything still okay at your end?’ There was a soft hiss and crackle of static on the line. 

‘Seems to be.’

‘Good, good.  Now look, the bloody weather’s taken a turn for the worse; some Arctic front or other moving in just in time for Christmas.  If there’s a bit of a delay getting to you in the morning, don’t fret.  I’ll hotwire a snowplough if I have to, but we’ll get there.’

‘No problem.  We’ll just keep everyone in their rooms until you arrive.’

I thought I heard Ed stifle a laugh.  ‘Excellent.  Must have been some nightcap eh?’

‘Must have been,’ Nat agreed.

‘Right then,  on to the important stuff.  I’m delighted to inform you that Marguerite Masterson’s currently having a cuppa with two young PCs from the Grampian force, and I’ve just had a call from my contact in the Garda to say that they’re taking Sinéad and Niamh Strachan straight to a safe house as we speak.  Apparently as soon as I mentioned the name ‘O’Halloran’ they decided not to take any chances.’

‘So they’re safe?’ I asked.

‘Yes, Lili, love.  They’re safe,’ came the reply.