Electric Light (Blair Dubh Trilogy #3) Page 9

  “We don’t know that they are,” said Steve. “We only saw five bodies.”

  “Only?” exclaimed Bill. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Sorry, bad choice of words.”

  “Gary, Steve, get on your radios,” said Craig, face shockingly white, sweat beading on his forehead as Lizzy tended to his wound. “We need armed response.”

  “We’ve been trying but we can’t raise anyone because of this bloody storm,” said Gary.

  “Mobiles?”

  “The same,” said Steve.

  “Gordon has a landline.”

  “Err, actually I had a row with the thieving phone company over the bill and I…well…I got cut off,” he mumbled hanging his head.

  “You daft bugger,” chided Bill.

  Gordon’s head snapped back up. “I’m sorry for not being psychic. If I’d known some lunatic was going to start bumping us off one by one again then I would have paid the fucking bill.”

  “Haven’t you learnt by now that there’s usually some nutter in Blair Dubh trying to kill someone?”

  “Don’t start on me, I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

  “What a way to run a business, no phone.”

  “I have my mobile.”

  “Fat lot of use that is at the moment.”

  “Will you two shut up?” yelled Nora. “Turning on each other’s not going to help. You remember what happened last time we started tearing lumps out of each other?”

  Bill’s face turned bright red with shame as he recalled how he’d almost got Freya killed because he’d kidnapped her and locked her up. “Sorry Nora,” he said hoarsely.

  “It’s vital we all keep it together. We’ve never needed each other more. Now, there’s a madman outside with a gun picking us off one by one. What do we do?”

  They all turned to look at Craig to lead the way, who was starting to recover from the shock of being shot now Lizzy had staunched the blood flow. “There’s not much we can do except hole up here and avoid getting shot until we can get through to the cavalry,” he said. “We stay down and we stay quiet. I want someone on their mobile phone continuously trying to get through to the emergency services.”

  “I…I can do that,” stammered Toby, taking his phone out of his jacket pocket. “I need something to focus my mind on anyway.”

  “And me,” said Howard.

  “We’ve got our phones too,” said Todd, indicating himself and his wife.

  “The more the merrier,” said Craig. “Mum, have you got yours?”

  “I have,” she said, snatching it out of her coat pocket, glad to be given something practical to do.

  “Good. Now, do we have any weapons?” continued Craig. “Preferably guns.”

  “I have a shotgun locked in a box upstairs,” said Gordon. “I’ve got plenty of ammo too. It’s licenced,” he hastily added. “I use it for hunting rabbits and crows. I hate crows,” he said darkly.

  “Great. Get it. No one handles it but you though.”

  “You think the gunman might try to get in here?” he asked, paling.

  “It’s a possibility and I want to be prepared.”

  “Okay, I’ll get it then,” he said before hurrying back upstairs.

  “There’s nothing else we can do,” Craig said, addressing the room. “We stay here and keep out of sight until the emergency services arrive. Don’t give the sniper another target.”

  “That’s your plan? We just wait here?” said Toby, the phone pressed to his ear. He puffed his cheeks out with frustration. “Dammit, still no signal.”

  “You’re welcome to go out there and take a look around,” replied Craig.

  Toby just glowered at him as he redialled the emergency services.

  Steve jumped when the radio burst into life in his hands. “Control, thank Christ. This is….” His face fell as the burst of static died. “Shit, it’s gone again. Oh no, it’s back.”

  Craig frowned as he looked around the room. “Wait a minute, what about the fud?”

  They all looked around for Hughes but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Shit,” said Gary. “He’s on guard duty at the McNab cottage. He might not even know what’s happened.”

  “He wouldn’t have heard the shots because they were silenced but surely he would have heard all the yelling?” said Craig.

  “Not necessarily,” said Gary. “A few months ago I was guarding another crime scene with him one night. Wee bastard fell asleep leaving me to do all the watching. Nothing could wake him. In the end I had to throw cold water all over him to wake him up. I blamed it on a broken water pipe,” he grinned.

  “So he could be in the McNab’s cottage, fucking snoring?”

  “Better that than lying in the street with a bullet in the head.”

  “Oh this just gets better and better,” sighed Craig. “Steve, get on your radio again and try and raise him. We have to warn him.”

  Steve tried but was once again greeted with the crackle of static. “Sorry, I’ve got sod all.”

  “Then I have to go over there,” said Craig.

  “No, you can’t,” cried Nora.

  “Have you finished Lizzy?” he said calmly.

  “Yep, almost as good as new,” she said. “The bandage is taped on and it should do until you can get to hospital but it will need some stitches. Don’t go doing anything silly that will open it up.”

  “Thanks,” he said, getting to his feet and making for the door.

  “Bill, Jimmy, stop him,” exclaimed Nora.

  The two men placed themselves between Craig and the door.

  “Nora’s right, we can’t let you go out there, you’ll get your head blown off,” said Bill.

  “We can’t just leave Hughes to get murdered, he must be warned.”

  “If it was anyone else I’d agree with you but that incompetent wee bastard almost got Freya killed.”

  “I’m not going to sit by and do nothing and let someone get shot, no matter who they are. Out of my way.”

  “No,” said Bill.

  “You remember the last time you tried to stop me you came off worse?” spat Craig. “Now fucking move before I do you for obstruction.”

  “The Sarge is right,” said Steve. “We have to help Hughes, even if he is a prick.” He turned to Craig. “But you can stay here, you’ve got a wee boy and a wife to think of.”

  “And you’ve got a fiancée.”

  “Sod it, we’ll all go, all coppers together,” said Gary with a grim smile.

  Craig nodded.

  “Please don’t,” croaked a voice.

  Craig turned to his mum and took her hands. “I’ll be fine. You know me, I always am.”

  “You’ve just been shot,” she cried, verging on hysterics. “If you go out that door I swear I’ll tell Freya and she’ll be furious with you. You made her a promise.”

  “Mum, this is my job. You might not like it but this is what I do. Now we’re going out there to get Hughes and we will come back. We have to do this.”

  Tears slid down Nora’s lined cheeks as she realised there was no way she could prevent her son from doing exactly what he wanted, he’d always been the same. She nodded sadly, drew in a breath and forced herself to calm down. “If that’s what you want but if you come back dead I’ll tell Freya.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” He kissed her damp cheek and gently squeezed her hand before turning to the rest of the room. “All of you, stay down and stay safe.” He looked to his two colleagues. “One of you needs to stay here with this lot, we have to maintain a police presence. I’m not going to make the decision who. You’ll decide between you.”

  Gary and Steve looked helplessly at each other. “How the hell do we decide that?” said Steve.

  “Better hurry, Hughes could pop his head out the door any minute,” said Craig.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” said Steve when Gary grabbed his right wrist and cuffed him to the rail running around the bar.

  “T
hat fluffy blond bird of yours will kill me if anything happens to you. Stay here and look after this lot.”

  “How can I do that if I’m cuffed to the bar?”

  “I’ll leave the key with Bill. Don’t let him out until we’ve gone.”

  “I won’t,” said Bill. “Good luck lads.”

  “Thanks,” said Craig. He hesitated before adding, “we could use a distraction.”

  “What sort of distraction?” replied Bill.

  “I don’t know, anything you can come up with to draw the sniper’s fire off us and don’t use yourselves.”

  “We weren’t intending to,” replied Jimmy.

  “Whatever it is do it fast. We need to reach Hughes as quickly as possible.”

  He gave his mum one last hug before nodding at Gary. Everyone watched in silence as he and Gary made their way through the pub to the back door. It would have been suicide to go out the front.

  The others looked at each other in consternation.

  “Trust the stupid wee fud to do something like this,” muttered Bill.

  “What can we use for a distraction?” said Jimmy.

  “Whatever it is make sure it’s a good one,” replied Nora. “That’s my son out there.”

  Bill beamed. “Don’t you worry Nora hen, I’ve just had an idea. It’s a mad one but it’ll be one hell of a distraction.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Hughes jumped awake with a loud snort, roused by his own snoring. He glanced at his watch but it was too dark to make out the time so he turned on the light in the small lounge of the McNab cottage. Crap, he’d been asleep for two hours. Still, who was to know?

  He eased himself up to a sitting position, the muscles in his neck aching from the awkward position he’d ended up in on the McNab’s very comfortable couch. He yawned and stretched then rubbed his stomach, which rumbled loudly. Before fixing himself something to eat he wandered over to the window and peered out into the gloom. There were no lights on in the Michie cottage.

  “Cheeky bastards,” he said out loud. He wouldn’t put it past Gary and Steve to have skived off to the pub. If they had he was going to have their jobs for it.

  Hughes got on his radio and attempted to reach both his constables but there was nothing but static. He surmised the storm was responsible but it wasn’t going to save that useless pair from a bollocking.

  “Right,” he huffed, storming for the door.

  Graeme was boiling over with fury. Thanks to Craig fucking Donaldson he’d been thwarted twice. He was actually crouched in Craig’s bedroom in his mother’s cottage because of its wonderful view of the main street and it was tempting to trash the whole house, just to get a bit of his own back, but that would not be productive. Instead he leaned back against the wall, rifle clutched tightly in both hands, screwed his eyes tight shut and concentrated on his breathing. It didn’t take long for his heart rate to slow and the ugly, dark feelings to evaporate. When he opened his eyes he was once more calm and thinking clearly. His ability to control his emotions so well was a never-ending source of pride for him.

  Graeme wasn’t used to being vexed like this, he was used to getting the job done then getting out. If all had gone according to plan he would be hightailing it out of the village through the woods by now, which he’d spent weeks combing so he could walk through them at night quite easily. By now he should be scouting for the next place to go but he’d barely scratched the surface here, there was too much evil left in this village. The purification process wasn’t complete.

  He counted the bodies lying in the street and frowned. Seven was an unsatisfactory number when there were still so many in the pub. The curtains were all closed and he couldn’t see a thing through them, they were just too thick. He grunted in frustration. What remained of the village was in there, no doubt crouched and cowering in fear. Perhaps he could barricade all the exits shut and burn it to the ground? Those who managed to escape he could shoot. But it was risky. He knew Gordon kept a shotgun because he enjoyed hunting, they’d discussed weaponry often enough. Undoubtedly Gordon would now have that gun in his hot little hands, ready to blow a hole through the first thing that approached and he was a good shot. After seeing the devastation those weapons could do up close he wasn’t about to walk up to one head-on. Approaching the pub directly would only be a last resort. However they would be attempting to call the emergency services and although this storm was playing havoc with his own mobile phone he knew there was a landline in the pub as well as police officers with Airwave radios. The authorities would be moving in. Time to ensure they didn’t get very far.

  He was about to turn away from the window then hesitated. Movement had caught his eye further down the street. He pressed his face up to the glass and squinted, attempting to make out where it was coming from. Graeme’s lips curled into a smile. Here was his chance to rid the world of more evil.

  Craig and Gary had snuck out the back door of the pub and pressed themselves against the side of the building to peer around the corner.

  “What can you see?” whispered Gary.

  “Not much,” replied Craig. It was dark, the full moon casting a glow but it kept being obscured by thick, rolling storm clouds. None of the streetlights appeared to be working, probably put out of commission by the sniper, telling him he must have night vision, another advantage along with the gun.

  At that moment mother nature once more lit up the scene for him as soft thunder was accompanied by brilliant lightning.

  “Jesus Christ, there must be six or seven bodies in the street,” said Craig.

  The horrific scene was mercifully blotted out when the lightning died away. Craig couldn’t tell if the storm was finally passing or if it was just a lull before the worst of it descended on them. Judging by the danger in the village he decided it must be the latter.

  Another, weaker flash of lightning crackled over the village and Craig saw something that made his heart sink. One of the bodies moved.

  “Oh shit,” he whispered.

  “What?” whispered back Gary.

  “I think one of them is still alive.”

  Craig held his breath as he waited to see if they would move again. He couldn’t be sure they actually had, with the frenzied lightning his eyes could have been playing tricks on him. He hoped they were. He’d promised Freya he’d come home alive and he really didn’t want to break that promise.

  He watched, straining to see clearly in the darkness, appalled when their hand moved. He didn’t know who it was, it was hard to tell at this distance. What he did know was that he couldn’t leave a critically injured person lying in the middle of the road.

  “Stop moving,” he called to them.

  The figure didn’t speak but they did raise their hand, which shook violently.

  “I said stop moving,” he called louder. “If the sniper sees you they’ll shoot you.”

  “It hurts so bad,” wailed a woman’s voice. “My back…”

  “I’m going to try to reach you but you’ve got to lie still, okay?”

  “It hurts…I can’t…”

  “Don’t move,” Craig bellowed when the figure rolled onto its side. Lightning strobed across the sky and he saw it was Iza.

  “Shit,” he said, instinct propelling him out from behind the pub. “Jesus Christ,” he yelled when her head exploded and she flopped back to the ground, twitching. He just managed to duck back behind the pub as two bullets slammed into the ground beside him.

  “He shot Iza, she was already injured,” he said, the horror of her death replaying before his eyes.

  “Fucking sick bastard,” spat Gary.

  It was one of the lowest points in Craig’s life. He felt he should have done more to save these people. He’d known Adam wasn’t the real sniper and now he’d been proved correct, but he should have persuaded his colleagues he was right and encouraged them to investigate more closely. He’d been too worried about protecting his precious career. Well he wouldn’t make that mistake again. He coul
d still atone for his failure and that began with staying alive long enough to do it.

  “You ready?” he said to Gary.

  Determinedly his colleague nodded.

  Taking a deep breath Craig scrabbled towards Gordon’s four by four that was parked in front of the pub, careful to keep his head down below the vehicle, Gary following. Shots thudded into the ground around them but they managed to reach safety unscathed.

  “Try and get the fud on the radio again,” said Craig.

  Gary tried but all he got was static. “Now what?”

  “Now we wait for Bill’s distraction. I hope he doesn’t take long.”

  Right on cue lights came bobbing down the road, only about a foot off the ground, moving erratically.

  “What the hell is that?” frowned Craig.

  “It looks like…I don’t bloody know what it looks like. Whatever it is, it’s not human.”

  Their question was answered when a loud squawking filled the air.

  “They’re fucking chickens,” exclaimed Gary. “Bill’s tied lights to a herd of chickens, the mad bastard.”

  “It’s a brood not a herd and he’s not mad, he’s one smart bastard,” said Craig when bullets started to pound into the ground around the lights. “It’s panicking the sniper, he can’t work out what’s going on. Let’s move.”

  They raced out from behind the shelter of Gordon’s vehicle and across the street, Gary almost tripping over a chicken as he ran. The dull thud of bullets hitting tarmac was just about audible over the gentle roll of thunder and the squawking.

  Instead of going through the front door of the McNab cottage they rushed around the back, out of the line of fire. They shoved open the gate leading into the small yard and hammered on the rear door.

  “Let us in,” bellowed Craig.

  There was the sound of the key being turned in the lock and the door slowly opened to reveal an indignant Hughes. “What on earth do you think you’re doing? You can’t come in here, it’s a crime scene.”

  Craig and Gary barged their way past him and slammed the door shut. “There’s a sniper on the loose,” said Craig breathlessly.

  “Impossible, he’s dead,” retorted Hughes.