Logan nudged the door shut behind him. Reubens guilty and you know it.
If you had any evidence to that effect, you wouldnt have had to let him go, would you?
He punched me in the face. I was there. I bloody well saw it!
Hissing Sid brought his chin up. I dont appreciate your tone, Acting DI McRae.
Think youll appreciate my boot up your-
Id love to sit around listening to threats of police brutality, but thanks to you Im running behind as it is. He reached down beside him and came out with his briefcase. Clicked it open, then pulled out a small brown envelope and placed it on the tabletop. Then went back in for a standard white DL one. He placed it beside the brown one, then pushed them both across the table towards Logan. These are for you.
Logan backed up a step. A brown envelope, seriously?
If youre inferring that it contains a bribe, youre mistaken. The contents should be self-explanatory, but if youre feeling challenged by any aspect, you can always contact my office and make an appointment. He clicked his briefcase shut again. Now, if youll excuse me, our time is up.
Logan stared down at the pair of envelopes. What is it then, blackmail?
A small smile slithered around Hissing Sids mouth. For blackmail to be effective, the target has to have done something wrong. Otherwise there would be nothing to blackmail them about. Have you done something wrong, Acting Detective Inspector?
He backed off another step. The door handle pressed into the base of his spine. Of course not. At least, nothing that Hissing Sid could have found out about. . Could he?
Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?
But what-
DI McRae, do you have any idea how much my services cost per hour? While my client had cleared me to brief you on the contents of these envelopes, you kept me waiting so long that the allocated time is now gone. And as my client is an old family friend I am unwilling to charge him more to make up for your tardiness.
But-
Make an appointment with my office. Then Hissing Sid stood, staring at Logan with expressionless grey eyes. Now, if you dont mind. .?
Logan stepped to the side and let him out.
Hissing Sid limped across reception and out through the front doors into the sunny afternoon.
Back in the reception room, Logan closed the door. Two envelopes from a family friend of Sandy Moir-Farquharson. Didnt take a genius to tell who that meant: Wee Hamish Mowat.
Maybe it was a bribe after all drop the charges against Reuben, and all this could be yours. .
Logan picked the envelopes up. Weighed them in his hand. Or maybe-
A bang on the door and he flinched hard enough to jump a foot to the right. Then stood there, pulse throbbing in his ears, making his arms itch.
Steels voice blared through the wood. Come on, get a shift on: theres fresh porn getting all cold!
Logan stuffed the envelopes into his pocket. Well, it wasnt as if he could just leave them lying about, was it? God knew what was inside. .
. .and were making substantial progress with the enquiry. Steel slouched in the passenger seat, one foot up on the dashboard, one arm dangling out of the car window, mobile phone jammed between her ear and her shoulder as she rearranged her bra.
The security guard was a lump of muscle squeezed into a brown polyester shirt. He peered in at Logan, then over at Steel just in time to catch her digging about in her cleavage with her spare hand.
The guard frowned. You sure shes police?
Wish I wasnt. Logan pointed past the barrier at the car park, laid out in front of the two-storey office block. It was crammed with vehicles. Anywhere?
. .Thats right, sir, several lines of enquiry are opening up, and now weve got that forensic anthropologist on board. . Yes, thank you, sir, it was a good idea of mine, but I cant take all the credit.
Typical.
The security guard checked his clipboard, then took a couple of steps away from the car and spoke into a two-way radio. Whatever he said, it was too quiet to make anything out. Especially with Steel droning away.
. .no, sir, its too soon to promise an arrests on its way to the media, but between you and me: were confident. . Yes. . Right. .
And then the guard was back, holding a pair of ID cards dangling from fluorescent orange lanyards. He handed them through the window. Make sure your pass is visible at all times. Go round the production block, theres overflow parking in front of Soundstage One. Five miles an hour, tops. He leaned into the car again. Not fifteen, not thirty: five.
Just make sure someone knows were coming.
The parking barrier jerked up and Logan eased the pool car over the threshold into tinsel town. Or what passed for it in the north-east of Scotland.
A pair of big grey warehouses sat behind the office block. Logan followed the road around at a glacial five miles per hour.
. .aye, sir, you can count on me. Steel hung up, then peered out at Soundstage One. It was at least four storeys tall, with a big 1 stencilled up the front in gold paint. You and me are in the wrong business, Laz. Looks like the dirty movies is where the money is.
Were making substantial progress?
A tanned young woman in denim shorts and a cut-off T-shirt flip-flopped past pushing a rail of what looked like nuns costumes.
Steel grinned. Thats your global recession for you. Every buggers got to cut back on the frivolous stuff like food and heating, but theyll no give up their porn.
Logan pulled up in one of the bays marked out in yellow paint beside the soundstage door, ignoring the REVERSE PARK ONLY notice. The ACCs going to know it was all bullshit. Were no nearer finding out who necklaced that poor sod than we were two days ago.
The ACC believes what I tell him to believe. She slapped Logan on the chest. Now shut up: youre harshing my pre-porn tingles.
A thin young man marched over from the office block, a leather satchel slung across one shoulder. Long hair, knee-length shorts, blue plimsoles, BOD IS MY CO-PILOT T-shirt, and thick-rimmed glasses. Half a dozen friendship bracelets dangled tatty braided tails from his left wrist. He reached the car as they climbed out. Grinned at them. Then pulled an iPad in a red leather case from his manbag and fiddled with it. Then nodded. Hi, youre. . Logan and Roberta, right? Can I see your passes?
Logan handed them both over.
Right, I actually need you to wear these, OK? And make sure theyre visible. Weve had a bit of a problem with unauthorized people. . He gave the passes back.
As soon as Logan put his on, the young man took a photo of him with the iPad. He did the same with Steel. Cool, all in the system. OK, well, my names Jack, he jiggled his own pass at them, Im the go-to guy round here, so if theres anything you need: let me know. Right, lets do this.
Jack turned on his heel and marched off around the side of Soundstage One.
Steel licked her lips, a frown creasing up the terrain of her forehead. Why am I getting a bad feeling about this?
They followed him, past a stack of foam and fibreglass bodies, most of which had bits hacked off.
He looked back over his shoulder. I know, creepy right? You should see them when theyre all wired up by the FX guys, its totally amazing. Got to hold onto them till we finish pickups, just in case.
Steel dropped her voice to a hissing whisper. What kind of porno needs a big pile of mangled corpses?
Logan stuck his hands in his pockets. Jack, you been here a while?
Since the very start! Its been. . an amazing experience. Seriously, what an introduction to the business, right?
Do you remember an Agnes Garfield?
Oh, my, God. He rolled his eyes, one hand pressed against his chest. Could she have been any more of a nutbag? Its creepy when people get obsessed like that, isnt it? I mean, its only a film, right?
Steel shrugged. Wouldnt know.
Right, here we are. Jack swept his arms out, encompassing the front of another dirty big warehouse, this one with the number 2 painted in silver all up the front and over the massive sliding doors. If anything it was even larger than the first one. Oh-oh, weve got a red light, so were going to have to wait here for a minute or two.
Logan rested his back against the warm metal wall. They had to throw her off the studio lot three times?
I know, and then she broke in! Can you believe it? Theres props missing from the stores and everything. A sigh. Thats why weve all got to be like super vigilant about passes. Even the actors have to wear them between scenes.
Steel puckered her lips. What, stark bollock naked with a stiffy and wee ID card dangling about?
Jacks smile slipped a little. A. . stiffy?
Aye, between scenes. When theyre no humping?
His mouth fell open a half-inch. Then clacked shut again, and the insincere smile was back. Well, thats us got a green light now. Shall we?
17
Steel stood in the doorway and stared. Soundstage Two was massive, broken up into different sets. The biggest was a four-storey block of flats in partial cutaway, the rooms full of battered furniture and grubby wallpaper, with what looked like a water tank at the bottom. Three people in dirty coveralls and facemasks were spray-painting stains onto one of the rooms.
Then there was a shanty town at the foot of a cliff, and the inside of what might have been a fishing boat. They all backed onto vast sweeps of green fabric marked with little yellow crosses. But other than a handful of people doing set-dressing, the locations were deserted. All the real activity was taking place around the set in the far corner a sort of circular House of Commons, with raked green leather bench seating and carved woodwork, arranged around a central island of red carpet and a massive brass lectern.
Half of the set was green-screen, but theyd built a segment of wall with more benches, a couple of balconies, and a curved ceiling painted blue with gold stars.
Two figures walked towards the middle of the round floor. One was wearing a black robe speckled with gold embroidery, his bald patch surrounded by thick grey hair that cascaded down to the middle of his back. The other was. . stunning: long ginger curls, elfin face, little upturned nose, and a perfect bow of a mouth. Nichole Fyfe. Much more impressive in the flesh than she was on the TV yesterday morning. A dark scar jagged down through her pale skin, starting at her left temple, across her big blue eye, and all the way down her cheek, separating the freckles. Black jeans, black leather frock coat, red silk shirt, black leather gloves. A long-handled old-fashioned pipe jutted out between her teeth just like the one hed found in Agnes Garfields Harry Potter hideaway puffing smoke signals out in the studio lights.