Electric Light (Blair Dubh Trilogy #3) Page 8

  One of the figures he recognised as Iza, the woman who cleaned in the pub. The way she shuffled her feet as she walked was very distinctive. Loathing roiled in his gut as he watched her wend her way down the street without a care in the world, her arm linked through her husband’s. They’d lived in Blair Dubh most of their useless little lives, they’d spent over forty years absorbing its wickedness and basking in sin. Time for them to go.

  When Graeme had first started using night vision goggles he’d thought he wouldn’t be able to cope with the sense of claustrophobia they gave him. After cowering under the kitchen table while Malcolm methodically murdered his family he hadn’t liked being penned in, but he’d adapted to the goggles quite quickly. Now they felt like a second skin, they were his eyes in the dark, giving him advantage over his prey.

  He took two long, deep breaths to steady himself, his finger gently squeezing the trigger. Whenever he was about to make a kill his heart sang and he truly felt that he was living among the angels.

  Graeme fired twice in quick succession, the sound once again absorbed by the silencer. The two figures fell, just two faint lumps in the darkness. Graeme kept the scope on them a little longer, just to make sure there was no movement but there was nothing. They were gone. Just in time too because the pub door was opening again, throwing more light onto the ground. The sound of happy chatter from within rushed out onto the street. It was just more proof to Graeme that the residents were depraved. How could they enjoy themselves after three of their friends had been murdered?

  Two more figures emerged from the doorway, letting the door swing shut behind them, blocking out the noise and light, which was a relief to Graeme. Once again it was just him and the sounds of nature, the irritable grumble of thunder above, lazy, as though it couldn’t be bothered quite yet to really get going. Graeme basked in it as he studied the two figures through the scope. He couldn’t tell who this pair huddled together were, they both had their hoods up, but from their gaits he could tell they were old, like most of the villagers.

  He waited until they’d come across the bodies of their friends, saw them stop in their tracks, heard a muffle cry of horror. Let them see their own bloody fates before putting them out of their misery.

  Two more silenced bullets resulted in two more bodies on the ground, lying close to the first two.

  He smiled to himself as he jogged around the back of the cottages. He wanted to be more elevated, that was what he was comfortable with, so he went inside Nora’s cottage and ran upstairs. It amazed him how trusting the residents of Blair Dubh were after everything that had happened here. Maybe after tonight they’d learn to lock their doors, the ones who made it through the night anyway.

  “God this is boring,” muttered Gary. He and Steve were stationed in Adam’s house, guarding the scene against intruders. “I mean, what’s the point? It’s not like anyone’s going to come in, is it?”

  “I don’t know. Toby might try and there’s those two tourists from his murder tour. I bet they’d love a good poke around to pick up a souvenir or two.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” sighed Gary.

  “You should have had some foresight like me and brought a book to read,” said Steve, holding up his copy of Madame Bovary.

  “I don’t read books.”

  “You could have brought your colouring book.”

  “Ha fucking ha.”

  Steve sighed and closed his book. “Fine, if you’re going to sulk why don’t you go back to the pub?”

  “Great,” he grinned.

  “Just for an hour, then it’s my turn.”

  “Oh. Better than nothing I suppose.”

  “Be grateful. I know you had a sneaky wee bevvy when you went across to ask the Sarge if he’d made any progress on his theory.”

  Gary coloured. “Gordon offered. It would have been rude to say no.”

  “Bollocks. Go on before I change my mind.”

  As Steve returned to his book Gary rushed for the door before he did indeed change his mind. Just as he pulled it open the outside world was lit up in stunning clarity, highlighting every shadow and shape. In that brief second before it went pitch black again Gary saw something that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He slammed the door shut, the massive thunderclap drowning out the sound.

  “What’s up with you? Scared of thunder?” smiled Steve.

  “There’s four bodies outside.”

  “What are you on about?”

  “Sorry, maybe I’m not making myself fucking clear. There’s four bodies outside on the ground. Dead.”

  “Really?”

  “No, I decided to make it up for a laugh,” he said sarcastically.

  “Well don’t just stand there, let’s get outside,” he said, scrambling to his feet.

  “Hold your horses,” said Gary, blocking his way to the door. “You haven’t thought this through, have you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s been a sniper in the village.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Craig doesn’t think so.”

  “Jesus, you’re right. You think the sniper’s not finished yet?”

  “That’s exactly what I think.”

  “I’ll call Craig on the radio.”

  “He doesn’t have a radio, he doesn’t have any of his equipment, he’s off duty.”

  “Shit. Hughes then?”

  “The fud? Yeah, go for it. Hopefully he’ll stick his head out the door for a look.”

  “I’ll call it in then. We need TFU back here.”

  The two men looked at each other with dismay when there was nothing on the other end except the crackle and hiss of static.

  “I’ll try mine,” said Gary but he got the same result.

  “I thought Airwave radios could handle bad weather,” said Steve.

  “Yeah but this is Blair Dubh. You remember what Freya said, it’s like it’s alive. It doesn’t want us to call for help.”

  “Don’t be so fucking silly,” said Steve, unease making him shiver. “We have to do something, we can’t just hide in here. Are you sure of what you saw? It might have been a rolled-up carpet or something.”

  “Why would anyone dump some carpet on the pavement? You know how anal they all are about keeping their village tidy and have you heard of a carpet that bleeds?”

  “They might not have been shot, they might have had a heart attack or something.”

  “What, four of them at the same time?” exclaimed Gary. “Someone’s fucking killed them, I’m telling you.”

  “We don’t know they were shot.”

  “What if they were and the killer’s waiting for another target to pop their head out the door?”

  Both men looked at each other helplessly, not a clue what to do.

  “I’ll call Craig on his mobile,” said Steve.

  “Good luck with that one.”

  Steve felt like throwing his phone against the wall when it refused to connect. “Fucking village, I hate this place,” he yelled. He looked helplessly at Gary. “What do we do?”

  “I don’t know, you’re supposed to be the brains around here. Wait, I’ve had an idea. The landline.”

  “You’re not supposed to use them during thunderstorms, they can conduct electricity. If lightning strikes the ground when you’re on the phone it’ll blow your brains out.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s true. Wait, is that only if it’s cordless?”

  Gary dashed to the phone that Betty kept on a table next to her armchair. “No, it’s not cordless. It’s one of those for blind people with massive buttons.” He chewed his lip before snatching up the handset. “Fuck it, I’ve not got much brains to blow out anyway.” When he heard a deafening crackle on the other end he released a gasp and slammed it back down. “Maybe not. So what now?”

  “We need to tell the Sarge. I know, we’ll go out the back way.”

  “What if we get shot? We’ve no idea whe
re the shooter is.”

  “If they shot someone in the main street then they’re obviously on this side. If we go out the back they won’t be able to see us. I’ll go. You stay here and keep an eye out.”

  “No, I’ll go. It’ll be dangerous.”

  “I can handle a bit of danger,” frowned Steve.

  “Look, you’re my pal. I’ll do it.”

  Steve smiled, touched. “You sure?”

  “If you tell anyone I’ll knock you out. Stay down and keep safe.”

  Before he could say another word Gary had jogged to the back door.

  “Gary?” called Steve.

  “I’m going and you’re not going to stop me.”

  “I know that, but take off your luminous jacket. You don’t want to give the sniper a bull’s eye.”

  Muttering to himself Gary shrugged off the jacket, letting it drop on the kitchen floor.

  Steve watched him tentatively open the door then look left and right before disappearing into the night, pulling the door shut behind him. Steve locked it then jogged upstairs and hesitated on the threshold to Adam’s bedroom, the room where he’d died. The distinctive coppery smell of spilt blood was still very strong, a mess of gore up the wall. Forensics were due back in the morning so everything had been left exactly as it was, except for the body, which had already been transported to the mortuary. He shouldn’t even be in here but this was more important because there was a strong possibility Adam had been murdered.

  A superstitious tingle ran down his spine. He’d never been comfortable around death and the thought of restless spirits made him very nervous. He’d never shared these fears with his colleagues, they’d only take the piss out of him, but that didn’t make the shivers go away.

  Carefully he tiptoed across the room, trying to destroy as little evidence as possible. If Gary was wrong and that was a sodding carpet on the ground outside then his career would be on the ropes. But he trusted Gary’s judgment. He hoped he was okay out there.

  Steve crouched down by the window, jumping when there was another boom of thunder.

  “Idiot,” he whispered to himself. Sometimes he wished he was like Gary - unimaginative and with nerves of steel.

  The room was in darkness so he hoped he wouldn’t be visible as peeked his head slightly above the parapet, half-expecting a bullet to come whizzing through the window. Sheet lightning lit up the street below and what Gary had initially thought were four rolled-up carpets were actually five.

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” he whispered. “There’s another one now.” Gary had definitely counted four earlier. What if one of them was Gary? A jolt of alarm ran through his body until he’d calculated that there hadn’t been enough time for him to get down the back lane, around the side of the last cottage and across the road. Neither would he have walked into the firing line like that, he might be a bit of a daftie but he wasn’t thick.

  Steve strained to see if any of those lumps were moving but they were all still. The sky was lit up again and he saw the dark stains surrounding each lump, obscene sticky black puddles.

  Steve sank down below the level of the window. What was going on? One thing was for sure though, poor Adam had been murdered.

  Gritting his teeth he rushed downstairs. He couldn’t just cower in here, the village needed him.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Alright Craig, I’m ready to go,” announced Nora.

  “You’re sure you don’t want another barrel of whisky first?”

  “You’re not too old to be put over my knee,” she frowned.

  “Yeah, alright. Let’s get back, I need to call Freya.”

  Nora, overcome with remorse and alcohol, became very maudlin. “You know Craig, I’m really sorry for what I said about her. She’s suffered so much and I’m going to really make the effort to visit you in Glasgow. I can get on the train, I’m not decrepit yet.”

  “Mum, it’s okay.”

  “I really mean it, I’m sorry,” she said, lower lip wobbling.

  Craig was horrified when it looked like she was going to cry. “Really, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

  “But it’s not…I just…”

  Craig looked to Bill for help when Nora buried her face in her hands and her shoulders started to shake. Bill, amused by Craig’s bewilderment, smiled and shook his head.

  “Let’s get you home. Come on,” he said, steering her towards the door.

  “Wait, let me sort myself out first,” she said when he grabbed the door handle and started to pull it open,

  The sound of thunder sneaking through the gap in the door making Craig shudder. God this village was creepy. He let the door swing shut, impatiently waiting while his mother dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “No one’s going to see you, it’s dark out there.”

  “I might have made an idiot of myself but I do have some dignity left. I’m not going out looking a fright.”

  Craig shuffled impatiently while she ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Ready?” said Craig.

  “Ready.”

  “Finally,” he said, opening the door.

  “Shut the door,” yelled a voice from deep within the pub.

  “Who’s shouting?” frowned Nora.

  Gary pelted in through the back door. “It’s not Adam.”

  “What’s not Adam?” said Nora. “What’s the man talking about?”

  Craig spotted the hole in the front door, put there by something small travelling at great speed.

  “Get down Mum,” he yelled, shoving her aside just as something whizzed through the open door past them and smashed into the wall at the back of the room, causing a table of five septuagenarians to jump.

  Craig kicked the door shut and sprang back from it, listening to something thud into the other side. Thank God that door was huge and reinforced.

  “Is everyone okay?” he called.

  “Ow, my ankle,” groused Nora, sitting upright and rubbing the injured joint. “That didn’t help.” She looked up at her son and her mouth dropped open in horror. “You’re bleeding.”

  He looked down at himself and saw blood staining the left side of his t-shirt. Immediately his thoughts leapt to Freya and Petie. Part of him was frightened to lift the t-shirt, afraid of seeing a huge hole there. He couldn’t actually feel anything, the whole area was numb.

  “Someone help him, please,” called Nora, trying to get to her feet but the horrible pain in her ankle prevented her from rising.

  “Get away from the door,” said Gary, taking her arm and helping her hobble to safety.

  “What’s going on? I don’t understand,” said Lizzy, assisting a very pale Craig to a table and gently settling him down in a chair.

  “Never mind that yet, is Craig alright? Oh my God,” cried Nora when Lizzy raised his t-shirt.

  “Calm down, it’s not as bad as it looks,” said Lizzy. “A lot of blood but I think it’s just a nick. Gordon, could you set some water to boil? I’ll need some clean cloths too and your first aid kit.”

  “No problem Lizzy,” he said. Gordon headed to the door that opened onto the stairs, leading up to the flat above the pub and hesitated. “Is it safe for me to go up there?”

  “Just keep your head below the window,” said Gary, rushing to Craig’s side after settling Nora in a chair. “You alright Sarge?”

  Craig nodded, slightly dazed. “What’s going on?”

  “You were right. Adam wasn’t the sniper,” replied Gary. “He must have been set up. The real sniper’s not done with us yet.”

  “How did you find out?”

  Realising everyone was staring at him Gary lowered his voice. “I saw four bodies out on the street. There might be more by now.”

  Craig gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes tight shut. “Oh shit. Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Craig thought of all the people who had left the pub and his heart almost broke.

  They all jumped when there was a terrific banging from the
direction of the back door and Steve charged in. “There’s a sniper.”

  “Yes, we know,” said Bill.

  He looked to Gary. “You made it, thank Christ.”

  “First thing we do is lock all the doors,” called Craig, the sensation returning to his body, bringing with it a fire in his side. “Ow, Jesus,” he groaned.

  “Okay Sarge?” said Gary anxiously.

  “Fine. Doors. Now.”

  He nodded and bolted the front door while Steve went to lock the back. Fortunately the curtains were already drawn, a longstanding habit of Gordon’s when it started to get dark, privacy had become a necessity when he started flouting the licensing laws and hosting lock-ins.

  “Craig, are you alright?” said Nora, attempting to get to her feet. “Bill, help me to my son.”

  “Okay Nora, take it easy,” he said as he assisted her across the room.

  “He’ll be fine, it just nicked the skin. Looks worse than it is,” assured Lizzy. “Gordon, hurry up,” she bellowed in Craig’s ear, making him wince.

  “Alright, I’m coming,” called back Gordon, his voice accompanied by the thunder of footsteps coming back down the stairs. He hesitated at the bottom to go into a crouch, creeping round the corner, clutching all the items Lizzy had requested.

  “The sniper can’t see in, the curtains are closed,” said Jimmy dryly.

  “Oh yeah, right,” said Gordon, straightening up. He deposited all the items on the table before Lizzy, who set about tending to Craig’s wound.

  Everyone gathered round to listen to Steve and Gary relate their experiences. Some of the villagers were in tears as they recalled how many of their fellow residents had already left the pub.

  “I think five of them have left,” said Jeanette.

  “No, seven. Tommy and Jean went too just before Gary got here,” said Toby, pale and quiet. He glanced at the two tourists, who looked afraid. For some reason this gave him pleasure.

  “They can’t all be dead,” sobbed Howard. Toby looked to him and gave him a manly slap on the back that was meant to be comforting but actually knocked the small man forward in his seat.