‘I think he knew he’d be safe ratting you out, because you’re far too loyal to ever break the Orphan Code. Even for someone who’s screwing you over, as long as they’re a “mate”.’
Thunk.
‘Andthisway you’d be out of the picture, so he could move in on your girlfriend. Keira said he was one of the “Thirsty Boys”, always trying to get in her pants.’
This time thethunkwas a little harder and came with a growl.
‘Something to think about, anyway.’ Logan went to closethe hatch, but stopped halfway. Opened it again. ‘There’s just one thing bugging me: in the car, after we arrested you at the circus – you said you only did it, because you “needed the money”. What money?’
Song finished, the bloke in the other cell started in on a medley fromOklahoma.
MacGarioch cleared his throat – voice a little strangled, as if he was swallowing tears. ‘Thanks...for the coffee.’ Then turned and carried his half-cold drink back to his uncomfortable bed.
Logan clacked the hatch shut.
Some people just didn’t want to help themselves...
The open-plan office was eerily silent for five past four on a Friday. The only inhabitants: Logan, two support staff, and a PC over by the printer – swearing at the machine between bouts of bowel-rattling coughs.
Logan sat back in his seat and frowned at the computer screen. Deleted his concluding sentences and tried again.
The events at Gorseburn Croft hadn’t exactly been straightforward, and the top brass liked everything laid out nice and clearly with as few complications, ‘howevers’ and ‘meanwhiles’ as possible. Which made the report on rescuing Natasha Agapova this morning amassivepain in the hoop.
Tufty hop-skipped across the room, with a big smile on his pointy wee face and a manila folder tucked under his arm. Throwing in a salute as he clicked to attention in front of Logan’s desk. ‘World’s Greatest Sidekick, reporting for duty,sah!’ Then plonked his folder in the in-tray. ‘I does has a finished.’
Yet another thing to read.
The wee loon made a big ta-daaaa gesture, then shrugged. ‘Turns out our abductist – in inverted commas, “Davis” – didsue theScottish Daily Postfor every penny it does has. Only the judge telled him to go poop in his hat, and awarded the paper costs and stuff.’ A sniff. ‘No wonder he was on a revenge.’
Logan cricked his neck to one side, making it pop and crackle like bubble-wrap. ‘What a sodding day.’
‘That’s Friday the thirteenth for you.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Though not really, as it’s just a case of confirmation bias. Cos peopleexpectbad things to happen: they look out for the bad stuff and do go, “Oooh, this bad thingie must be because it’s Friday the thirteenth!” But if the same bad something happened on a Tuesday the fourth, they’d be all like, “pooping heck...” and just get on with it.’
Logan had another bash at concluding his report and sent it off. Had a massive stretch, then an equally massive slump. ‘Could sleep for a month.’
‘Ah, yes, but we did solve the case and rescue Natasha Agapova.’ Hoppity-skippity. ‘That’s successalicious, right?’
True.
Kind of.
If she survives...
He dumped the relevant forms in his out-tray, then reached for the next folder. Which had ‘OPERATIONFIREDRAKE“FOODVANTURFWAR”’ printed across it in wonky Sharpie letters. ‘Told Charles MacGarioch about his good mate Spence screwing him over. Still wouldn’t talk.’
‘And now the newspapers will hail us as heroes, and tell everyone how groovy and clever we are, and buy us a extra-nice hat what does say “Brave Clever Person!” on it. In sequins. With an exclamation mark.’
‘Wouldn’t even tell me how burning a migrant hotel was meant to be a cash earner. I mean, how do you make money doingthat?’
‘Hmmm...?’ Tufty raised his eyebrows. ‘Can’t even make moneyrunningone, never mind burning it. Look at poor old Mr Murray.’
‘Who?’
‘Owns the hotel. I did see inside his house when I put him to bed, and he istotallyskintsville. Looks like he did has to sell all his furniture and stuff.’
Time for more coffee, because if the paperwork for Operation ‘Food Van Turf War’ was evenhalfas boring as the stuff on Operation ‘Camper Vans Stolen To Order’, he was going to need all the caffeine he could get.
Gathering up all his empty wax-paper coffee cups, Logan dumped them in the bin. Stood. And checked the clock – 16:07. ‘Right: soon as the little hand hits five, we’re out of here. Got Morning Prayers for this stupid protest at seven tomorrow, and it’s going to be a complete...’
