Bottleneck (36 page)

"Can I see the minutes of these calls?" said Soutar.

"Superintendent Turnbull's team was running with that."

"We would have produced minutes had the calls actually taken place," said Cargill.

Graham got to his feet and pointed at her. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Cargill leaned back in her chair. "Are you calling
me
a liar?"

Soutar glared at Graham. "Sit."

Graham adjusted his cufflinks then took his seat again.

"I warned you what would happen if this case was not managed to my satisfaction," said Soutar.

Cullen finally clocked what was happening - their guests were from the Met.

"I've had enough of this," said Soutar. "We're clearly not operationally ready for this sort of case. I hoped we might have had more time to establish our processes and establish a rapport across the country, but this case has clearly come too soon."

She gestured to the two others.

"I've asked Detective Superintendents Garricks and O'Keefe from the Met to come in and supervise this. Both have years of experience co-ordinating sizeable investigations across Greater London, a task equivalent to the undertaking we have."

"Dealing with crime in London and in Scotland are very different things," said Graham. "You're comparing apples and oranges."

"They're also very
similar
things," said Soutar. "There are core behaviours not being adhered to here. Having a single command centre, for instance." She tapped her nails on the desk for a few seconds. "Given the events of the last few days, our southern colleagues will be in operational command of this case and will be occupying office space in Leith Walk. All officers of Detective Superintendent grade and below will report to them. I want to be kept updated on an hourly basis. I want Roberts in a cell by dinner tonight. Am I making myself clear?"

Cullen looked around the room, watching heads nod. He couldn't see anything good coming from this. Instead of playing games against each other, the Edinburgh and Glasgow troops would be at it with the Londoners who would, of course, have their own agenda - showing these stupid Jocks how to run a murder case, for starters.

"Anything else?" said Soutar.

Nothing.

Back at Leith Walk, Cargill gave a briefing.

There was a general air of demoralisation in the room as though they'd lost. London was in charge now. How could Scotland run its own country if it couldn't run its own police force? How could it run a police force if it couldn't run a murder case?

Garricks and O'Keefe spent much of the briefing picking Cargill up on minutiae and points of pedantry. Cullen didn't have the greatest amount of admiration for her, but seeing her get torn into by her superiors with no backup from her own Detective Superintendent, certainly made Cullen sympathise.

There was a trainload of Met officers on its way up. The London detectives were taking people aside for two-on-one interviews, starting from the top. Cullen figured he'd have a long wait until he was called in, so he typed up his notes, desperately trying to keep on top of active leads. Everything was stuck in neutral.

Bain and McCrea wandered into the Incident Room, grinning like kids who'd ingratiated themselves with the playground bullies. Cullen kept his head down.

"Just had our session with the Met boys," said McCrea.

Cullen leaned back in his seat. "Trying to get a whole IQ measure out of the pair of you, were they?"

"Very good," said Bain. "Still a funny little fucker, aren't you, Sundance?"

Cullen shrugged. "You walked right into that one."

Bain smiled. "They're putting us in charge of making sure your paper trail is up to scratch."

"That doesn't sound unbiased," said Cullen. "Someone's going to get their arse handed to them and it's basically between you and Methven. Having you go over our files isn't going to be fair, is it?"

Bain shrugged and cleared his throat. "Methven's heading to our station."

Cullen nodded his head. "Divide and conquer. Get those who don't do the work playing stupid games against each other."

"What are you saying?" said Bain. "I do fuckin' work."

"Yeah, but all you've done recently is try to get back at Methven and Cargill."

Bain snarled and got up close, coffee breath making Cullen flinch. "Just remember I've got a grievance filed against you."

Cullen looked away. "That's not going to stand up, though, is it?"

"We'll see," said Bain. "If you're a good boy to me then we'll maybe cut a deal."

"We both know it didn't happen," said Cullen. "Damian here is backing you up out of loyalty. I've seen how you reward loyalty."

"Cullen, for the love of goodness..." Bain's nostrils flared. "I'm going to find a meeting room to sit in and tear your squad a new arsehole. Give me your fuckin' files."

Cullen's phone rang - Chantal Jain. He held the phone up to his ear, staring at Bain all the time. "Cullen."

"Scott, you'll love this," said Chantal.

"Go on," said Cullen.

"Beth Williamson has just gone to the practice rooms with two bags full of food, clothes and a sleeping bag."

Cullen shot to his feet. Roberts.

Cullen stood on Niddry Street, waiting to be called into action.

Unmarked cars were parked across the entrances at the Cowgate below and the Royal Mile above. An Armed Response Unit was present though there seemed very little evidence to suggest Roberts was dangerous, if he was even inside the building. Cullen's assumption had somehow become fact.

The car parked outside the practice rooms was registered to Beth Williamson. Murray and Chantal were just behind her, pointing up the slope and boxing her in.

"We fuckin' need to get in there," said Bain.

"This isn't your investigation any more," said Methven. He'd been getting petrol in Gorgie when he received the call, immediately turning back to join in.

"Fuck you," said Bain. "Besides, he's got a fuckin' hostage now."

"You think?" said Methven.

Bain scowled. "You don't? Are you fuckin' stupid or something?"

"It's not him you need to convince." Cullen gestured up the hill at Garricks as he talked on an Airwave, his dark skin sticking out like a sore thumb in white bread Edinburgh. "Those two are in command here."

"Pricks," said Bain.

"You've changed your tune," said Cullen.

"Shut your pus," said McCrea. "It's always fucking cheek with you. Show the gaffer a bit of respect, man."

Cullen raised his eyebrows. "I'll bear that in mind. Last time we tried to arrest him there were just three officers present and he managed to get away."

"That wasn't our fault," said McCrea, his voice rising.

"No, it wasn't," said Cullen, losing the rag. "I've heard so many times about how it was
my
fault."

"Keep it down," said Methven. "Roberts might hear you."

Further down the hill, Chantal and Buxton stood among a larger squad, including uniformed officers. O'Keefe stood behind them, talking on an Airwave, most likely to Garricks.

Beth Williamson burst out of the door in floods of tears, a tissue clasped to her face. She slumped against her car, her body racked with sobs, no longer carrying the bags she arrived with.

O'Keefe held his hand up, signalling 'Go!'

Cullen was first there, grabbing Beth by the arms. "Keep quiet," he said, before leading her away from the car, back up the hill.

Beth's eyes bulged. "What's happening?"

"We're looking for Mike Roberts," said Cullen. "Is he down there?"

Beth avoided his gaze. "No."

"Then why the hell did you take bags down into the practice rooms?" said Cullen.

"I didn't," said Beth.

"What were you doing down there?" said Cullen.

"I left some drumsticks in the room when we moved out," said Beth. "I was just collecting them."

"I don't like being lied to," said Cullen. "One more time. Is Mike Roberts down there?"

Beth looked around at the other officers, trying for sympathy. Garricks had descended, keeping a keen ear trained on the conversation.

"Beth," said Cullen, "is Mike Roberts down there?"

She burst into tears again. "Yes."

"Is he armed?" said Cullen.

"I don't know."

"Where is he?"

"Downstairs, I think," said Beth. "He met me on the stairs just by where our room was."

Garricks intervened, pointing to a DC who was shadowing him. "Right, get her processed."

The DC led her up the street to the meat wagon, almost hugging her.

Garricks looked at the other four officers. "What are we thinking, gentlemen?" He rubbed his hands together.

"We should flush him out," said Methven. "Bide our time. He'll run out of food quickly."

"There's a huge bag of messages just gone in there," said Bain. "It'll be a week before he runs out of Doritos."

"What do you propose instead?" said Methven.

Bain shrugged. "I want to know how public enemy number one can march through Edinburgh and not be spotted."

"Park the politics, Inspector," said Garricks. "In your opinion, what should we do?"

"Pile in there," said Bain. "It's just one man, unarmed. If we can't get him, we should just give up now."

Garricks stared at the door for a few seconds. "Cullen?"

Cullen was surprised to be asked. "Much as I hate to admit it, I'm with Bain. Let's just get in there and arrest him."

"Right," said Garricks. "You need to be careful." He got on his Airwave. "We're going in. Cullen, McCrea, Bain and Methven first. We need a team from your side, O'Keefe. One minute, on my mark." He pocketed the device, tapped on his digital watch then looked around at the officers. "You four are going in the first wave. We'll get a second team in there after you." He looked at Cullen and Methven in turn. "You two have been in there before, haven't you?"

Methven nodded. "That's where James Strang's body was found, sir."

"I'm putting you in charge then, Inspector."

Methven's eyes flickered, looking the most nervous Cullen had ever seen. "Okay. Thanks." He nodded at Bain and McCrea. "Are you ready?"

"I was born ready," said Bain.

"So what happened?" said Cullen.

"Shut it, Sundance," said Bain.

Methven led them inside, clicking his torch on within the first few tentative steps down into the damp, whitewashed space, the police tape still hanging off the wall. At the bottom, the door was wedged shut. Methven nodded at Cullen. "Open it."

Cullen pushed it, a loud screech sounding halfway round its arc.

"You first, Sundance," said Bain.

Cullen checked with Methven, who simply nodded.

"Come on, then." Cullen started off down the corridor, switching his own torch on as he walked.

"Turn that fuckin' thing off, Cullen," said Bain. "He'll know we're coming."

"We won't see where we're going," said Cullen.

"It's just a fuckin' long corridor, Sundance. What could go wrong?"

"Can you both sodding keep it down?" said Methven in a loud hiss. "Otherwise he definitely
will
know we're coming."

"You're in charge," said Cullen. "Torch or no torch?"

"Keep it on," said Methven.

Bain shook his head slowly.

They trudged on down the corridor for a few seconds, Cullen's torch light bouncing off the walls. Cullen led, followed by Bain, McCrea and then Methven. They quickly came to the crossroads, bricked up doorways on the left-hand side and straight on. The only way was to turn right.

Before long, the passageway widened out and Cullen saw they were at the spot where Strang's body was found. They gathered round to take in the scene, torches focused on the area.

"So, where the fuck is Roberts, then?" said Bain.

Cullen shone his torch into the distance, the light seeming to go to infinity. "We know he's down here. He can't have got past us, so he must be deeper in."

"What's down there?" said McCrea.

"We don't know," said Methven. "Lots of old streets, we think. The council were going to send in a team of archaeologists but they're waiting on our case concluding."

"How much further does this one go?" said McCrea.

"Could be miles," said Cullen.

"Miles?" said McCrea. "You're talking shite."

"Seriously," said Cullen. "This used to be the city before it got built on. We're just about under South Bridge, I think."

"Carry on," said Methven.

Cullen led again, shining his torch ahead. They walked slower, Cullen feeling his heart in his mouth. Roberts was up ahead, they just didn't know where or if he was armed. He had killed twice and he clearly wouldn't hesitate in doing so again.

Cullen stopped at another crossroads, not bricked up this time. The road led straight on into the darkness, passages leading off to either side, not bricked up like the earlier ones. He stopped and shone his torch down one, then the other. He turned to face Methven. "What now, sir?"

Methven pointed his own torch down the passageways. "This is what we don't sodding need." He spun round and shone the torch back the way they'd come. "Where's the second team?"

"No fuckin' sign of them," said Bain.

"We should wait," said Methven. "There are only four of us but three directions to go in."

"So, what are you suggesting, dungeon master?" said Bain.

"We need to be systematic." Methven pointed at McCrea. "Sergeant, you and I will investigate this passage." He pointed to the right.

"So you're leaving the way ahead open?" said Bain.

Methven shook his head. "You two will stay here until we return. If it's another long tunnel then we have no option but to wait for reinforcements."

"Fine," said Bain.

"Ready?" said Methven.

McCrea nodded then led on into the dark.

Cullen stood and listened to their receding footsteps, the only sounds in the place.

Bain stabbed at his mobile and his Airwave. "Where the fuck are those boys? No reception, either."

"Reckon they're coming?" said Cullen.

"Probably shited it." Bain shone his torch the opposite way to where Methven and McCrea had gone. "Right, fuck this, I'm off. You coming?"