Bottleneck (32 page)

"Fuck it, we're going in," said McCrea. "The warrant will cover us."

"You're breaking the door down?"

"Old trick I learnt from a DI," said McCrea.

"Sure it's not the current one?" said Cullen.

"Let's get in there and square up the notebooks after, right?" said McCrea. "We found the door knocked in." He braced himself. "On three."

"Wait," said Cullen. "Do we go on three, or three then a beat and we go?"

"Isn't that from
Lethal Weapon
?"

"It's a valid point."

"Fuck's sake," said McCrea. "Three, then go. One, two, three."

He shoved his shoulder into the door, knocking it off its hinges.

A burglar alarm blared.

They slowly and methodically checked the five ground floor rooms. All empty. A couple of bottles of champagne lay in the kitchen sink.

McCrea pointed at them. "Somebody had a decent night last night."

"Must be upstairs," said Cullen.

"Well deduced," said McCrea. "You idiot."

Cullen shook his head. "Come on."

They headed to the stairs and saw Roberts coming down, dressed like he'd just got in. A woman stood at the top, wearing a long t-shirt, trying to cover her legs.

"What the fuck is going on here?" said Roberts.

Cullen got his warrant card out. "Mr Roberts. We'd like to speak to you in relation to the murders of Alex Hughes and James Strang."

Roberts stopped a couple of steps above Cullen. "We've spoken about this. Nothing more to say."

"Just come down the station with us and we can deal with it there," said Cullen.

"Yeah, right." Roberts was now at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes moved over to the front door. "You've fucking broken into my house." He squared up to Cullen. "Have you got a warrant for this?"

"Yeah, we do." McCrea showed him the warrant. "Besides, the door was already broken."

"Like fuck it was," said Roberts. "The alarm just went off then you pair pitch up. Do you think you can get away with this?"

"Sir, if you'll just come with us," said McCrea.

"Like fuck I will," said Roberts. "I want the pair of you out of here and then I want to speak to your boss."

"He's just outside," said Cullen, "but, believe me, he's probably the last person you want to speak to."

Roberts pointed at Cullen. "Look, pal, I've warned you. Get out."

"You have to come with us," said Cullen.

Roberts swallowed. "Let's see the warrant."

McCrea started unfolding the sheets of paper.

Roberts lurched forward, pushing Cullen in the chest and sending him stumbling backwards into McCrea. Both sprawled on the floor as Roberts bolted for it.

"Mikey, where are you going?" said the girl.

Roberts slammed what was left of the door shut.

"Get up," said McCrea. "Get off me."

Fire burnt through Cullen's shoulder.

McCrea got to his feet then helped Cullen up. "Fuck's sake." He struggled with the door, eventually tugging it open.

Cullen followed him outside, crunching over the path.

On the street, Bain raced forward to head Roberts off. He swung a punch, narrowly missing. Roberts stepped forward and kneed Bain in the groin, the DI sinking to his knees.

Roberts punched him in the face, knocking him flat on his back. He kicked him in the stomach twice, before looking back and spotting Cullen and McCrea running his way.

Roberts jumped in Bain's car and slammed the door shut.

Cullen tugged at the handle, managing to pull the door slightly open.

The car started up, the engine growling. Roberts put his foot to the floor and the Mondeo screeched off.

"Fuck's sake."

Cullen headed over to Bain, McCrea kneeling over him.

Bain spat blood. "Get the fuck after him."

"What about you?" said McCrea.

"I'll be fine," said Bain. "Send a fuckin' squad car for me. Shite."

In seconds, they were in Cullen's car. He pulled a U-turn, ignorant of the oncoming traffic. A car swerved to avoid him.

"We'll fucking lose him," said McCrea.

Cullen was hitting sixty in a residential area, his Golf bouncing over the speed bumps, the suspension crunching. He could just about make out a purple blur as it signalled left at the end of the road then jumped a red light. "There he is."

"Fucking keep on him," said McCrea.

"Can you make yourself useful and call this in?" said Cullen.

"Right." McCrea reached into his coat pocket for his Airwave. He spoke to Control in slow tones, getting the incident on the system and ordering a car for Bain.

Cullen swung a left at the end of the road, turning onto a dual carriageway.

"Can you still see him?" said McCrea.

The Mondeo was about ten cars ahead, though there were long gaps between the vehicles.

"Yes," said Cullen. "If you'd tried to apprehend him instead of seeing to Bain, he'd not have been able to get this far."

"This is your disaster, Cullen."

"There was no back-up. This was your shambles."

"What were we supposed to do?" said McCrea. "You'd already pissed off the Chief Super with your antics. The gaffer had no moves left other than to keep this quiet."

"Well, a killer has escaped," said Cullen. The speedo went past eighty as he bobbed and weaved through the traffic, managing to narrow the gap to five cars. "Where's he heading?"

"M74 is just up ahead," said McCrea. "From there, it's easy to take the back roads into Bandit Country."

"Bandit Country?"

"North Lanarkshire. Otherwise, it'll be the M8 for him. If he's got any sense, he'll get off the motorway."

Cullen flashed at the car in front of him, eventually forcing it to pull into the inside lane. He hit the floor and just about caught up with Bain's Mondeo, close enough to see Roberts spotting them in the rear view.

Cullen's hand hammered down on the horn. He flashed the lights.

The Mondeo surged forward. Cullen had no hope of matching it for speed - he only had a one point eight engine, no GTI or anything. The sports Mondeo would be at least three litres and stuffed with turbochargers and fuel injections.

Fortune seemed to favour Cullen - the traffic ahead slowed. They caught up with Roberts, going bumper to bumper.

Roberts jerked into the right-turn lane, before accelerating across the gap in oncoming traffic. He made it to the residential street beyond.

Cullen shifted down to second and blasted across the gap, cars screeching to a halt as they approached.

A braking SUV slammed into the back of Cullen's car, sending them spinning across the road. They mounted the pavement and slammed into a low wall, the car almost tipping over. It fell back down with a deep thud.

Cullen noticed a trickle of blood down his arm - the seatbelt had cut his old wound open.

"He's fucking got away," said McCrea.

"Looks like it." Cullen winced through the pain. He tried the ignition, the grinding noise suggesting his car was written off.

"I'm so glad this is your fuck up," said McCrea.

Cullen only had his damaged shoulder to thank for not punching McCrea there and then.

Two hours of checks and debriefing later, Cullen was stuck in Govan without a car. He stood in an empty meeting room in front of a whiteboard, drawing up possibilities of who to look for in the hunt for Mike Roberts. Anything to take his mind off the colossal fuck up.

Start with the basics.

Friends.

Family.

Work Colleagues.

Friends and work colleagues would be his band plus a few others: band manager, people at the record label, hangers on, mates, guitar tech, sound guy.

Girls like the one at his house. She'd been questioned and released, just a groupie he'd picked up at the backstage party.

They needed to find his family.

"You're not getting very far."

Cullen turned round.

McCrea stood in the doorway, arms folded. "You've been keeping a low profile since the paramedics let us go."

"My car's fucked."

"Right." McCrea smirked. "Did they get an exorcist out?"

"That's not funny."

McCrea pointed at the whiteboard. "How's it going?"

"I know so little about Roberts," said Cullen.

McCrea stood beside him and looked at the confused scribbles on the wall. "This is pretty fucked up."

"At least it's my fuck up, though, right?" said Cullen.

"We'll see."

"How's Bain doing?"

"He'll live," said McCrea.

"Shame."

McCrea turned to face Cullen. "You shouldn't be such a prick to him. He's a good DI."

"Try working for him for longer than five minutes."

"I have," said McCrea. "We go back years."

"Then you're even older than you look."

McCrea laughed. "Anyway, your parents have turned up to take you home."

"Eh?"

"They're in the Incident Room," said McCrea.

Cullen headed through, a frown etched on his face.

Cargill and Methven stood in the middle of the room, faces like thunder as they spoke to Graham. Cargill left with Graham when Cullen appeared.

"We need to speak," said Methven.

"There's a meeting room through here," said Cullen.

He led him back, his neck burning. McCrea had vacated the room, so they sat at the table, Cullen facing his spider-like scribbles.

"What happened?" said Methven.

"It was like I told you when I drove back from Dalhousie," said Cullen. "Roberts killed both of them."

Methven looked sceptical. "Strang
and
Hughes?"

"Aye."

"What about DI Bain's theory that it was a drug killing?"

"It's a good theory." Cullen sniffed. "It was wrong, though. We've got solid evidence from Hughes' laptop to back this all up."

"What sort of thing?"

"Hughes had a dossier on Roberts, implying he killed Strang. He was due to meet Roberts the night he died. He was going to confront him about it. I'm sure there will be more now we know what we're looking for."

"This is a disaster," said Methven.

"Is it?" said Cullen. "We know who did it now. They are one and the same case."

"A sodding police officer's car was stolen, the officer injured in the process and the suspect is still at large."

"Why are you two here?" said Cullen.

"This doesn't reflect well on us," said Methven. "Alison's trying to stop any fallout from Graham. The new Chief Constable likes team players. We've got a loose cannon in our ranks."

"
Me?
"

"Who else?" said Methven.

"I
am
a team player," said Cullen. "I just like to play a slightly different game every now and then."

"It can be a sodding dangerous game," said Methven. "Just be thankful your bloody car is the only casualty this time."

"I've kept you informed of what I was doing."

Methven arched his bushy eyebrows. "Really?"

"I called you once I knew I wasn't wasting everybody's time," said Cullen. "Look, James Strang's parents will be able to start grieving. Alex Hughes' mother will have someone to blame for her son's death."

Methven nodded. "Let's see."

"What's the plan of attack here?"

"We need to round table this," said Methven.

"What does that even mean?"

Methven jangled the change in his pocket. "It means we need to sodding get round a table and plan this out.
Properly
."

"This is Bain and Graham's gig, though."

"I sodding well know that," said Methven. "At least someone else's bollocks got kicked for once."

Bain had a white plaster stuck across his nose as he led the briefing. The table was indeed round, surrounded by more than twenty officers.

"We need to find this boy and quickly," said Bain. "If he's gone to ground then we might be a bit stuck here." He snorted. "Roberts has killed two people. The motive is a bit opaque to me just now, but from the way the boy bolted when Cullen ploughed in, we can clearly assume he's guilty. We just need some evidence."

Graham frowned as he tapped his propelling pencil against a pad of paper. "Are you saying we have
no
evidence?"

Bain held his hands up. "We've got enough to prove we're on the right track. That's what I'm saying here."

"It looks like Roberts stole a song from The Invisibles," said Cullen. "James Strang was the singer in the band. Roberts and Strang were good friends at the time, but they fell out over that. We know The Invisibles were offered a record deal. Roberts somehow managed to exert pressure and it was withdrawn. The next we know, Strang confronted Roberts in Edinburgh. Roberts must have killed Strang and hid the body away in the abandoned streets under the Old Town."

Cullen's phone rang. He got it out of his pocket and checked the display - Buxton.

Bain scowled at him. "Turn that fuckin' thing off."

Cullen flicked the ringer off. "Sorry."

Graham glared at Bain. "How does this tie to our drugs killing?"

"The drugs angle is a red herring," said Methven.

"I'm sorry?" Graham scowled at Methven.

"Roberts killed Hughes," said Cullen. "As DI Methven says, the drugs thing is a red herring. Hughes had a dossier of evidence suggesting Roberts killed Strang and he was going to confront him about it."

"And he didn't bring it to our attention?" said Graham.

"Hughes didn't trust the police," said Cullen.

"I can see why." Graham narrowed his eyes at Bain. "I thought you had actual evidence?"

Bain cleared his throat. "We managed to close down a hydroponics lab."

"That conviction better stick," said Graham, "otherwise how your testicles feel just now will seem like a dream."

"We've got a musicologist in trying to prove the two songs in question are related, sir. Obviously, if DC Cullen hadn't let Mr Roberts go his mummy and daddy wouldn't have had to come through."

"He stole
your
car," said Cullen.

"Shut it," said Bain.

"Brian, please keep this professional for once," said Cargill.

"I am professional,
Alison
," said Bain.