Dewar smiled. He didn’t need a second invitation. He closed up the back and climbed in beside Grant.
‘Fifteen million years of human evolution and we reach that, said Grant with disgust as they moved off.
‘Maybe he had a deprived childhood,’ said Dewar, tongue in cheek.
‘I know what I’d like to deprive the little bastard of,’ said Grant, slowing the vehicle again to manoeuvre round a burnt out Ford that had been dragged off to the side but not quite off the road. ‘That’s Aberdour Court up ahead.’
Dewar looked at the huge tower block, standing tall against the night sky, its front elevation pock-marked with lights, many of its balconies still draped with washing that had been soaked earlier in the sudden heavy rain and which been allowed to remain there, as optimists looked to a drier tomorrow.
‘Seems quiet enough,’ said Dewar as they came to a halt on the broad tarmac apron outside the front entrance.
‘With a bit of luck it’s going to be, in, out and away,’ said Dewar.
‘Providing they leave the wheels,’ said Grant, as he locked the vehicle and pocketed the keys before joining Dewar. They took a stretcher with them to make their visit seem plausible to anyone watching.
‘Where you goin’ mister?’ asked a ten year old by the entrance. He held a lit cigarette in his hand, quite unselfconsciously. He could have been Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca..’
‘What aren’t you in bed?’ retorted Grant. ‘You’ve got school tomorrow.’
‘Nae school,’ replied the boy. ‘It’s closed.’
‘So it is,’ agreed Grant. ‘I forgot. If you want to make fifty pence, keep an eye on the ambulance, will you?’
‘Make it a quid and you’re on.’
‘All right, a quid it is.’
‘In advance.’
‘D’you think I came up the Clyde on roller-blades?’ exclaimed Grant. When we come back, providing you’re still standing beside it and it’s still got wheels and an engine, you’ll get your money.’
‘Nae problem. Any shit and I’ll get my brother to them.’
The boy ran off to stand by the ambulance. Grant and Dewar took the lift to the eighth floor and walked along the gangway to Kelly’s flat. Grant brought out a bunch of keys and said, ‘Just as well Kelly wasn’t a dealer. Some of these guys put on steel doors that withstand Cruise missiles.’
The door opened with the third key he tried. ‘We’re in business,’ said Grant.
TWENTY THREE
The electricity supply to the flat had been turned off — something they had anticipated; they were using torches they’d brought up from the ambulance. Grant stood by while Dewar knelt down in front of the kitchen sink and opened up the small cupboard below it. He emptied out the cupboard of various bottles of cleaning agents and accumulated a smelly pile of rags, scouring pads, dusters and old newspapers at his side. He stretched out and positioned himself on the floor to reach in and around the plastic trap in the sink drain to touch the plywood back board. It felt encouragingly loose.
He laid down his torch so that he could reach inside with both hands and begin manoeuvring it upwards with his palms. He did it a centimetre at a time in case it should suddenly give way and slip backwards. He didn’t want it breaking any glass vials that might be lying directly behind it.
‘How’s it going?’ asked Grant, who was becoming impatient at standing doing nothing in the cold darkness of the room as time ticked by.
‘Nearly there.’
Dewar felt the board suddenly become free of its improvised side channels. He tried unsuccessfully to turn it round to pull it out on the left side of the sink trap but it stuck fast. He tried again to the right and this time let out a sigh of relief as the board slid out past the drain pipe. He handed it to Grant who propped it up at the side of the cupboard. Dewar started to feel his way round the cavity at the back of the pipes. For one awful moment he thought there was nothing there but then his hand met a plastic wrapped package and he gripped it gently and pulled it out slowly. He could not have been more careful had it contained unstable nitro-glycerine.
‘Is that what you were after?’ asked Grant as Dewar turned to sit on the floor and shine his torch on the wrapping. He could see through the clear plastic that it contained about fifteen of the vials he’d first seen at the Hannans’ flat.
‘It’s them, all right,’ said Dewar. ‘We’ve got them back.’
‘Good. Let’s get out of here.’
Dewar put the board back behind the pipes and loaded the vials carefully into the metal paramedic equipment case he’d brought up from the ambulance. He used surgical dressing material to add extra padding and make sure they were well protected from any vibration or buffeting they were liable to encounter.
‘All ready,’ he said.
Dewar walked out on to the gangway and paused to look over the guard rail while Grant locked up the flat. Things still seemed very quiet. He could see the Great Bear in the clear northern sky and he could see the ambulance far below with the small figure of the boy standing beside it. Despite the fact that the boy was the only other living soul in evidence, he still had the uneasy feeling that their every move was being watched.
‘Like clockwork,’ said Grant enthusiastically as they made their way along to the lifts. ‘God, I wish all operations went like this. If I had a quid for every cock-up I’d been out on I’d be a rich man.’
Dewar wasn’t ready to relax just yet and Grant sensed the tension in him. Neither man spoke as they descended in the lift. Dewar watched the floor indicator, Grant read the graffiti which covered every inch of wall space despite the use of corrugated metal in an attempt to prevent this. The doors slid open and they stepped out into what appeared to be a deserted hallway. They had almost reached the front doors when several figures suddenly emerged from the darkness to surround them.
‘Haven’t you guys forgotten something?’ asked a swarthy, thickset man with greasy brushed-back black hair and a slight speech impediment which introduced a sibilant hiss to his voice. ‘A patient, maybe?’
‘Hoax call,’ said Dewar, gathering his wits quickly. ‘Happens all the time. Kids I suppose. Pain in the bloody arse. Don’t their parents teach them anything these days?’
‘Little buggers,’ added Grant.
‘But you went in to one of the flats. You were in there quite a long time,’ said the soft hissing voice.
They had been watched, thought Dewar. They were in real trouble. ‘We have to do that sometimes,’ he said. The caller was specific about the flat number so we had to check it out just in case someone was lying there unconscious or unable to get to the door.’
‘Are you telling us they give you pass keys these days?’ asked the man who was doing all the talking. His voice held a mixture of amusement and disbelief.
Dewar didn’t like the man. His voice was a bit too even, a bit too controlled, intelligent and in his opinion, belonged to someone who was downright evil.
‘If they’re council flats,’ said Grant, also thinking quickly and taking over. ‘It’s a council initiative; there are simply so many old people living on their own these days.’
‘Bullshit!’ snapped the man with the hissing voice.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Bullshit,’ repeated hissing voice but he sounded even and controlled again. ‘You’re coppers. I’ve seen you before.’ He moved round to take a better look at them. ‘Grant, isn’t it? Inspector bloody Grant.’
‘You’re mistaken,’ growled Grant. ‘Now just stand aside and we’ll be on our way. We’ve got more to do than stand around here all day.’
‘Hold it!’
Three men moved in front of Dewar and Grant to bar their way.
‘Now what would the polis be wantin’ in Mike Kelly’s flat, d’you reckon, guys?’ continued the ring leader. ‘It would have to be something important enough for them to dress up for … ‘Naughty substances maybe? We’d have to be talking a substantial amount if they put a police inspector into fancy dress for it … Or was that your idea, Grant? Fancied some glory? Fancied seeing your name in the papers. “Police undercover squad in major drugs snatch”? I think we’d better have a wee look in that case you’re carrying pal …‘