Bloody hell! The fat man ran a hand over his big, pink face. Why can no one do what theyre told?
Another hour or so and we can free up some of the team here and
I told you, I want it done now. Not in an hour: now.
But its going to take that long to get a search warrant. Surely we should be concentrating on doing a thorough job here
The inspector loomed over him: six foot three of angry fat. Dont make me tell you twice, Sergeant.
Logan tried to sound reasonable. Even if we pull every uniform off the boat and the docks, theyre going to have to sit twiddling their thumbs till the search warrant comes through.
Insch got as far as We dont have time to bugger about with before he was tapped on the shoulder by someone dressed in a white SOC oversuit. Someone who didnt look particularly happy.
Ive been waiting for you for fifteen minutes! Dr Isobel McAllister, Aberdeens chief pathologist, wearing an expression that would freeze the balls off a brass gorilla at twenty paces. You might not have anything better to do, but I can assure you that I have. Now are you going to listen to my preliminary findings, or shall I just go home and leave you to whatever it is you feel is more important?
Logan groaned. That was all they needed, Isobel winding Insch up even further. As if the grumpy fat sod wasnt bad enough already. The inspector turned on her, his face flushing angry-scarlet in the IB spotlights. Thank you so much for waiting for me, Doctor, Im sorry if my organizing a murder inquiry has inconvenienced you. Ill try not to let something as trivial get in the way again.
They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Then Isobel pulled on a cold, unfriendly smile. Remains are human: male. Dismemberment looks as if it occurred some time after death with a long, sharp blade and a hacksaw, but I wont be able to confirm that until Ive performed the post mortem. She checked her watch. Which will take place at eleven am precisely.
Insch bristled. Oh no it wont! I need those remains analysed now
Theyre frozen, Inspector. They need to defrost. Emphasizing each word as if she were talking to a naughty child, rather than a huge, bad-tempered Detective Inspector. If you want, I suppose I could stick them in the canteen microwave for half an hour. But that might not be very professional. What do you think?
Insch just ground his teeth at her. Face rapidly shifting from angry-red to furious-purple. Fine, he said at last, then you can help by accompanying DS McRae to a cash and carry in Altens.
And what makes you think I
Of course, if youre too busy, I can always ask one of the other pathologists to take over this case. It was Inschs turn with the nasty smile. I understand the pressure you must be under: working mother, small child, cant really expect the same level of commitment to the job as
Isobel looked as if she was about to slap him. Dont you dare finish that sentence! She flung an imperious gesture in Logans direction. Get the car, Sergeant, weve got work to do.
Insch nodded, pulled out his mobile and started dialling. Now if youll excuse me, Ive got a call to make... Hello?... That West Midlands Police?... Yes, DI Insch: Grampian CID, I need to speak to Chief Constable Mark Faulds.... Yes, of course I know what time it is! He turned his back on them and wandered away out of the spotlights.
Isobel scowled after him, then turned and snapped at Logan, Well? We havent got all night.
They were halfway to the car when a loud, WILL YOU FUCK OFF WITH THAT BLOODY CAMERA! exploded behind them. Logan looked over his shoulder to see Alec scurrying in their direction while the inspector went back to his telephone call.
They were halfway to the car when a loud, WILL YOU FUCK OFF WITH THAT BLOODY CAMERA! exploded behind them. Logan looked over his shoulder to see Alec scurrying in their direction while the inspector went back to his telephone call.
Er... said the cameraman, catching up to them by Logans grubby, unmarked CID pool car, I wondered if I could tag along with you for a while. Insch is a bit... He shrugged. You know.
Logan did. Get in. Ill be back in a minute. It didnt take long to pass the word along: he just grabbed the nearest sergeant and asked her to give it forty-five minutes, then tell everyone to finish up and get their backsides over to Altens.
Alec was in full whinge when Logan got back to the car. I mean, the cameraman said, leaning forward from the back seat knee-deep in discarded chip papers and fast-food cartons, If he didnt want to be in the bloody series, whyd he volunteer? Always seemed really keen till now. He shouted at me I had my headphones on, nearly blew my eardrums out.
Logan shrugged, threading the car through the barricade of press cameras, microphones and spotlights. Youre lucky. He shouts at me every bloody day.
Isobel just sat there in frosty silence, seething.
Thompsons Cash and Carry was a long breezeblock warehouse in Altens: a soulless business park on the southernmost tip of Aberdeen. The building was huge, filled with rows and rows of high, deep shelves that stretched off into the distance, miserable beneath the flicker of fluorescent lighting and the drone of piped muzak. The managers office was halfway up the end wall, a flight of concrete steps leading to a shiny blue door with YOUR SMILE IS OUR GREATEST ASSET written on it. If that was the case, they were all screwed, because everyone looked bloody miserable.
The man in charge of Thompsons Cash and Carry was no exception. Theyd dragged him out of his bed at half four in the morning and it showed: bags under the eyes, blue stubble on his jowly face, wearing a suit that probably cost a fortune, but looked as if someone had died in it. Mr Thompson peered out of the picture window that made up one wall of his office, watching as uniformed officers picked their way through the shelves of jelly babies, washing powder and baked beans. Oh God...
And youre quite sure, said Logan, sitting in a creaky leather sofa with a cup of coffee and a chocolate biscuit, there havent been any breakins?
No. I mean, yes. Im sure. Thompson crossed his arms, paced back and forth, uncrossed his arms. Sat down. Stood up again. It cant have come from here: weve got someone onsite twenty-four-seven, a state-of-the-art security system.
Logan had met their state-of-the-art security system it was a sixty-eight-year-old man called Harold. Logan had sneezed more alert things than him.
Thompson went back to the window. Have you tried speaking to the ships crew? Maybe they
Who supplies your meat, Mr Thompson?
It... depends what it is. Some of the pre-packaged stuff comes from local butchers its cheaper than hiring someone in-house to hack it up the rest comes from abattoirs. We use three He flinched as a loud, rattling crash came from the cash and carry floor below, followed by a derisory cheer and some slow handclapping. You promised me theyd be careful! Were open in an hour and a half; I cant have customers seeing the place in a mess.
Logan shook his head. I think youve got more important things to worry about, sir.
Thompson stared at him. You cant think we had anything to do with this! Were a family firm. Weve been here for nearly thirty years.
That container came from your cash and carry with bits of human meat in it.
But
How many other shipments do you think went out to the rigs like that? What if youve been selling chunks of dead bodies to catering companies for months? Do you think the guys whove been eating chopped-up corpses offshore are going to be happy about it?
Mr Thompson blanched and said, Oh God... again.
Logan drained the last of his coffee and stood. Where did the meat in that container come from?
I... Ill have to look in the dockets.
You do that.
The cash and carrys chill room sat on the opposite side of the building, separated from the shelves of tins and dried goods by a curtain of thick plastic strips that kept the cold in and the muzak out. A huge refrigeration unit bolted to the wall rattled away like a perpetual smokers cough, making the air cold enough that Logans breath trailed behind him in a fine mist as he marched between the boxes of fruit and vegetables, over to the walk-in freezer section.
Detective Constable Rennie stood beside the freezers heavy steel doors, hands jammed deep in his armpits, nose Rudolfred, dressed like a ninja version of the Michelin Man in layers and layers of black clothing.
Its freezing in here, said the constable, shivering, think my nipples just fell off.
Logan stopped, one hand on the freezers door-handle. Youd be a lot warmer if you actually did some work.
Rennie pulled a face. The Ice Queen thinks were all too thick to help. I mean, its not my fault I dont know what Im looking for, is it?
What? Logan closed his eyes and tried counting to ten. Got as far as three. For Gods sake; youre supposed to be looking for human remains!
I know that. Im in there, standing in a sodding freezer the size of my house, looking at rows and rows of frozen bits of bloody meat. How am I supposed to tell a joint of pork from a joint of person? It all looks the same to me. A hand, a foot, a head: that I could recognize. But its all just chunks of meat. He shifted, stomping his feet and blowing into his cupped hands. Im a policeman, not a bloody doctor.
And Logan had to admit he had a point. They only knew that the joint of meat found in the offshore container was human because it had a pierced nipple. Farmers were an odd lot, but not that odd.
Logan hauled open the heavy metal door and stepped into the freezer... Dear God it was cold like being punched in the chest by a bag of ice. His breath went from mist to impenetrable fog. Hello?
He found Dr Isobel McAllister on the other side of a stack of cardboard boxes, their brown surfaces sparkling with a crisp film of white ice. Shed traded in her white SOC oversuit for a couple of dirty-blue parkas and a set of padded trousers, the ensemble topped off with a red and white bobble hat bandaged onto her head with a tatty maroon scarf. Not exactly her usual catwalk self. She was picking her way through a mound of frozen mystery meat.
Anything?
She scowled up at him. Other than hypothermia? When Logan didnt answer, Isobel sighed and pointed at a big plastic crate stacked with chunks of vacuum-packed meat. Weve got about three dozen possible pieces. If it was on the bone itd be a lot easier to spot; cows and pigs have a much higher meat to bone ratio, but look at this, she held up a pack labelled DICED PORK. Could be anything. Id expect human meat to be redder based on the amount of myoglobin in the tissue but if its been bled and frozen... Well need to defrost and DNA-test all of this before well know for sure.