Blindside Read online

  ‘Okay. What’s your e-mail address?’

  Cahill told her and said he would check it out and call her back if he found anything.

  ‘What do you think?’ Cahill asked Logan after ending the call.

  Logan shrugged.

  ‘Sounds like it might be something. The timing, you know.’

  Cahill nodded and dialled another number on the phone. A man with a strong Glasgow accent answered.

  ‘Bruce, it’s Alex. Can you look at something for me?’

  ‘Sure. What is it?’

  ‘I need you to check any connection between Tim Stark and a D. Hunter from Denver.’

  ‘Not much to go on.’

  ‘It’s all we have.’

  ‘That’s it? No documents or anything?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘When do you need it?’

  ‘Tomorrow is fine. Or the day after. I’ll be in the States so call my mobile.’

  Cahill ended the call, opened his laptop and waited for it to boot, drumming his fingers on his desk. He accessed his e-mail and waited for the message from Melanie Stark to download. He clicked on it and printed off a copy.

  Logan got up and went to the printer, lifting the page from the tray and handing it to Cahill.

  ‘Doesn’t look like much of a lead,’ Logan said.

  Cahill looked over the printed copy of the e-mail and when he was done he forwarded the e-mail to Bruce and shut down his laptop.

  ‘What’s the plan tomorrow?’ Logan asked.

  ‘I’ll come pick you up. We can leave my car at the airport.’

  ‘And after we get there?’

  ‘We play it by ear.’

  ‘You realise that it’s likely our names will raise a flag now with Homeland Security when we get over there and hit the US customs’ desk?’

  ‘I’m kind of counting on it. I mean, where else do we start?’

  ‘That’s your idea? You make enough of a nuisance of yourself that they lock us in a small room at the airport for several hours and threaten to send us straight back here.’

  ‘Something like that, yeah. I find it works most of the time.’

  Logan stared at him.

  ‘Look, they’re not going to send us to Guantanamo Bay or anything.’

  Logan’s eyes widened.

  ‘And we need to get in touch with whichever law enforcement agency is really in charge of this thing. They will come to speak to us.’

  ‘If they don’t?’

  ‘We make our presence felt over there. Go see the Feds and the cops and anyone else that we can think of.’

  ‘What if they ignore us? I mean, have you thought about that? Then you go to the press, is that it?’

  Cahill smiled. ‘Not bad. I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘I was kind of kidding.’

  ‘No,’ he was excited now, ‘it’s a good idea. There’s nothing they hate more when they’re trying to keep something under the radar.’

  ‘Let’s see if we can get into the country without getting arrested first,’ Logan said, regretting even mentioning it now. ‘Take it from there.’

  Sam Cahill came into the room and held up Logan’s mobile.

  ‘This was ringing. I think it was Becky.’

  Logan stood and took the phone from her, walking past her to go out of the study. Sam looked at her husband.

  ‘You look after him over there,’ she told him.

  7

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Logan asked Irvine. ‘I mean, it’s getting late now.’

  ‘I’m fine. It’s nothing.’

  ‘What’s nothing?’

  Irvine sighed.

  ‘I had a bit of a confrontation tonight. This case I’m working on.’

  Logan wanted to ask more but let it go for now.

  ‘Are you at home?’

  ‘Yes. But you don’t need to come over tonight if you don’t want to. I know you’ve got a long trip tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m coming over.’

  ‘Good.’

  Logan parked a little way along the street from Irvine’s house and walked back. When she opened the door he stared at the discoloration on her face, her eye half closed from the swelling.

  ‘Jesus, what happened?’

  She lifted a hand self-consciously, trying to cover it.

  ‘I thought you said it was nothing.’

  She stepped back and told him to come inside. He followed her down the hall, through the dining room and into the kitchen where she sat at the table.

  She poured herself a cup of tea while Logan went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice. He sat next to Irvine and pushed her hair back to look closely at the damaged side of her face. He saw now that she had three stitches in a cut beside her eye, which was heavily bloodshot.

  ‘Some confrontation,’ he said. ‘Did you get in a fight?’

  ‘Sort of. Somebody I wanted to talk to on my case wasn’t quite so keen to speak to me.’

  ‘Don’t you work these things with a partner?’

  She looked sideways at him. ‘Yeah, usually. This time I went on my own. Turned out not to be such a good idea after all.’

  Irvine put her mug down and turned in her seat to face him. Her lip trembled.

  ‘Logan …’

  She moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, crying quietly. Then not so quietly.

  ‘I was so scared. He was much bigger and stronger. If I didn’t have the pepper spray—’

  She didn’t finish the thought.

  He held her and stroked her hair. After a moment she pulled away and took a tissue from her pocket, dabbing at her eyes.

  Her phone rang, shrill in the quiet of the room. Irvine grabbed it and answered.

  ‘DC Irvine?’ a male voice asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s DS Jim Murphy. Listen, sorry to disturb you at night, but I thought you might like to know what we found.’

  ‘You got something new, Jim?’

  ‘Well, we think it’s the clothes from your victim. Lewski.’

  ‘What do you mean, think?’

  ‘There’s not much left of them. They were found in a skip outside a building site about a half-mile from the locus. Someone set fire to them.’

  ‘Is there enough left to do us any good?’

  ‘Don’t know till the forensics people go over it. It’ll be tomorrow now before they make a start.’

  ‘Thanks, Jim.’

  She finished the call and held Logan’s hand.

  ‘How do I look?’ She straightened her back and sniffed, lifting her chin.

  Logan tilted his head to one side.

  ‘You really want me to answer that?’

  ‘Yes, actually.’

  He leaned towards her and kissed her gently on the lips, moving up the injured side of her face and kissing her eyes as she closed them.

  ‘How’s that for an answer?’

  ‘Pretty good. You practise that?’

  ‘Only on you.’

  They moved through to the living room and sat together on an oversized couch. Logan put his arm around her and pulled her to him.

  ‘What is this case anyway that causes you to get beaten up?’

  ‘It’s a drug squad thing that I got pulled into because there’ve been some deaths.’

  ‘What, like gang hits or something?’

  ‘No. Not like that. Overdoses.’

  ‘Why is CID interested in overdoses?’

  ‘They think there’s a new strain of drug going around. A heroin derivative. If the suppliers know that it’s potentially lethal we might be able to charge them in relation to the deaths, not just the supply.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it that way.’

  ‘Can we not talk about it any more? When do you leave tomorrow?’

  ‘Alex is picking me up at seven.’

  ‘How’s Ellie taking it?’

  ‘Better than I thought. Sam said you can go over there any time. If you want.
’

  ‘I will, if I get the time. This case feels like it’ll keep me busy.’

  They sat for a while without talking, watching the fire crackle in the hearth and enjoying the quiet.

  Irvine turned her face and kissed his neck, small and soft. Her hand slid across his chest and inside his shirt. Logan kissed her.

  ‘You have to get up early,’ she said, bringing her hand up to his face.

  ‘Not that early.’

  Part Six:

  Patriots

  1

  The place looked smaller than Seth Raines remembered. He got out of his pick-up truck and walked up the steps to the front door of the single-storey house. He rapped his knuckles on the door and waited. He looked back at his truck sitting in the dirt driveway behind the crumbling front wall.

  ‘That you, Seth?’ a voice sounded from inside.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Come on in. It’s open.’

  Raines looked down at his boots and wiped them on the welcome mat before pushing the door open and stepping into the narrow hallway. It led to a small kitchen at the back of the house with a couple of rooms off to either side.

  ‘Through here,’ the voice shouted from Raines’s right.

  He pushed open the first door on his right and walked into the room, looking back to see if he was trailing any dirt. The man he had come to see was sitting by the fireplace. It was warm outside but the fire was roaring. The man turned to look at Raines. The pain never seemed to leave his eyes. Raines knew why.

  Raines lay on the ground beside the dirt track watching blood soak through his combat trousers. Andy Johnson kneeled beside him and tore at his trousers until the wound was exposed. Raines put his head back against the dirt and ground his teeth against the pain as it burned through his leg.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Johnson said. ‘You’ll be okay, man.’

  His voice was high and difficult to hear over the noise.

  Raines felt sweat run back off his face and into his ears.

  A British Chinook helicopter came in to land using the cover of the three Land Rovers to shield it from the enemy position. It settled on the ground quickly and heavily and a medical team rushed forward. One of the team came to treat Raines, but he shouted at them to get Horn first.

  ‘Keep him alive,’ he screamed at the medics as they fitted an oxygen mask over Horn’s face and lifted him on to a stretcher.

  The rotor blades of the Chinook continued to spin, blowing dust and grit into Raines’s eyes. He closed them and held his hand up as a shield.

  When he got back to the base, Horn was already in surgery. Raines leaned against a wall in the operating theatre while the British medics worked on Horn, oblivious to the blood soaking the field dressing on his own wound.

  They told him he couldn’t be there. Try and move me, he told them.

  No one did.

  They worked hard on Horn. He couldn’t have asked for any more effort.

  First thing they did was saw off what remained of his left foot. Tried to stem the blood flow from the stump where his right leg used to be by clamping arteries.

  His heart still stopped.

  They opened his chest and put paddles into the cavity.

  Raines closed his eyes, certain that his man was not coming back.

  But he did. Somehow. And now here he was in front of Raines.

  ‘You don’t have to like these people,’ Raines told Matt Horn. ‘They’re a means to an end is all. A tool to help us get what we want.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘You need convincing at every stage. It’s getting old real fast.’

  Horn said nothing and looked out of the window at the front of the house. Raines hated the weakness he saw in his friend’s eyes. He walked to the window and leaned against the wall beside it, his face set in a perpetual frown. The picture of Charlie Company that first day in Afghanistan was on the mantel above the fireplace. The same one Raines had in his office at the compound. Raines stared at it. Tried to reconcile the face of Matt Horn that he saw in the picture with the man he was now.

  Horn turned his head and followed Raines’s gaze to the photo. He stood awkwardly, pushing himself up with his arms, and walked in a stiff gait to look out of the window. Raines knew that Horn was still getting used to the new artificial legs.

  ‘You heard about the latest one?’ Horn said. ‘The guy that died in Veterans Park?’

  ‘I heard.’

  ‘He was a soldier. Or at least he used to be.’

  ‘I said I heard.’

  ‘What about the others? And what about Stark?’

  Raines moved off the wall, opening and closing his fists.

  ‘If that was even his name.’

  ‘Goddamnit,’ Horn shouted at Raines. ‘When did it get so easy for you?’

  He turned and Raines saw his eyes glisten in the light from the sun. Horn wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his face. Raines bowed his head. Wondered if it would be easier for everyone if he killed Horn now. He would never have believed that he could have such a thought.

  ‘It’ll be over soon,’ Raines told him.

  ‘It won’t bring any of them back.’ Horn’s voice trembled. ‘Will it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And how many more will die?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t have anything else to say to me?’

  Raines looked again at the photograph above the fireplace – thought about what he would do if he could rewind it all back to that day. Would he do it differently? Any of it? Never volunteer for that trip to the poppy field? He wasn’t sure. His current mission seemed hard-wired into his psyche and nothing would turn him away from it. In quiet moments, he secretly relished it.

  ‘I used to love this country,’ he said.

  ‘You still do.’

  Raines looked at Horn again and smiled, shaking his head.

  ‘And now I want it to burn,’ Raines said. ‘I mean, I love the country. But not the bastards that run it. They can rot in Hell for all I care. For all they did to us.’

  He pointed at the photograph.

  ‘We have to look after ourselves. That’s what this is about.’

  ‘And what about the people we hurt in the process?’

  Raines turned to the window.

  ‘I told you already. I’m tired of this conversation.’

  ‘Can you at least tell me how this all ends?’

  There was no answer.

  2

  Raines pulled up outside his building and looked in his mirror. He saw that he now had shadows. They were parked in an obvious Fed car across the street. They must have been waiting for him since this morning. Had to be expected after what happened to Stark. He was impressed that they had found him because he had rented the apartment under a different name but felt kind of insulted that they weren’t very good at being covert, if that was their intention. Two young guys in suits sitting on the street in a Ford on a working day. Their ineptitude would have been funny if it wasn’t for the fact that they were supposed to be the ones protecting the security of the country.

  What used to be his country.

  Raines decided on a direct strategy. They had nothing on him anyway. He reached under his seat, grabbed his Smith & Wesson nine-millimetre off the floor, stuck it into the rear waistband of his jeans and got out of his truck. He walked across the street towards the Ford, saw the men inside turn their heads to talk to one another. Their movements were fast and jerky.

  Raines got to the car, leaned down to the driver’s window and motioned with his hand for the man to lower the window. The man did what he was told, the window buzzing down, and stared at Raines through the narrow opening he had made.

  ‘Let me in back,’ Raines told him.

  The driver turned to his companion who was entirely non-committal.

  ‘We should talk.’

  The driver turned back to Raines, stared at him for a while longer and nodded his
head towards the back of the car. Raines heard the soft click of the car door being unlocked. He went to the rear door, pulled it open and sat inside.

  ‘How old are you guys?’

  The driver turned in his seat to look at Raines.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I asked first.’

  The driver sighed and looked at the man beside him in the front passenger seat. They were both Hispanic men and looked to Raines like they were too young for the job.

  ‘I mean, you don’t look any older than, what, thirty?’ Raines asked. ‘Am I right?’

  The driver looked at Raines again but said nothing.

  ‘What did you do before you signed up for the badge and the gun? Or did you get into this straight out of college?’

  ‘I was a cop,’ the driver said.

  His partner looked at him and shook his head.

  ‘Why are we even talking to this guy?’

  ‘What about you, chief?’ Raines asked the partner.

  The man faced forward again and ignored Raines.

  ‘You’ve never fought for your country, have you? Never put yourself in harm’s way for others. Because that’s what it’s about, you know. Self-sacrifice.’

  ‘What is it that you want?’ the driver asked him.

  Raines snorted a laugh.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re the first person to ask me that,’ Raines told him. ‘That’s how we got to this.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If someone like you, some government salary slave, had actually asked me what I wanted and been genuine about it, we might not be sitting in this car together today.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Raines looked down.

  ‘We can end it all if you want,’ the driver said to him. ‘Say the word and we’ll take you in right now.’

  ‘And charge me with what?’ Raines asked, without looking up.

  ‘We’ll think of something,’ the partner said, looking out of the windscreen.

  ‘That’s what I’m talking about,’ Raines said, jabbing a finger at the man in the passenger seat. ‘You guys are all the same, aren’t you? So confident in your ability to always be right.’