The Impossible Dead

16



‘Anyone else we should be talking to?’ Tony Kaye asked.

The three of them were perched on the sea wall, eating fish and chips from the wrappings. Across the water, a ray of sun picked out Berwick Law. Far to the right, they could make out Arthur’s Seat and the Edinburgh skyline. Tankers and cargo vessels sat at rest in the estuary. It was lunchtime, and the gulls were flapping around, looking interested.

‘Haldane might be worth another shot,’ Fox suggested.

‘Really?’ Kaye asked.

‘What do you think?’

‘I think a murder inquiry might be about to happen, and we’d be better off elsewhere. Last thing Fife Constabulary is going to need is us running around, trying not to barge into their murder team.’

‘True,’ Fox admitted.

‘Yet I can’t help noticing we’re still here.’ Kaye tossed a morsel of batter into the air, watching a gull swoop and snatch it, its friends readying to gang up against it. ‘So tell me what else we could add to the sum of our knowledge.’

‘There’s the surveillance,’ Fox offered.

‘But that’s not our operation.’

‘Scholes, Haldane and Michaelson – we’ve hardly scratched the surface with them …’

‘You’re clutching at straws, Malcolm.’ This time a salted chip spun into the sky, dropping to the ground and being pounced on by four of the gulls.

‘All right, I give in.’ Fox turned towards Naysmith. ‘Joe, tell the man why we can’t go home just yet.’

‘Francis Vernal,’ Naysmith said, on cue. It had been evident to Fox from first thing: Naysmith had been reading the same online articles, rumours and suppositions as Fox – and he was hooked. ‘Taken for granted at the time that it was suicide. Media hardly touched it – no rolling news or internet back then. But Vernal had told friends he thought he was being watched, that his office and house had been broken into – nothing taken, just stuff put back in the wrong place.’

‘So who was watching him?’ Kaye asked.

‘Spooks, I suppose.’

‘And why would they be interested in him?’

‘I hadn’t realised how wild things were in the mid-eighties,’ Naysmith said, licking vinegar from his fingers. ‘You had CND demos, Star Wars summits—’

‘Star Wars?’

‘Not the film – it was a missile defence thing; Reagan and Gorbachev. Cruise missiles were on their way to Britain. The Clyde was being picketed because of Polaris. Friends of the Earth were protesting about acid rain. Animal rights … Hilda Murrell …’ Naysmith paused. ‘You remember her, right?’

‘Let’s pretend I don’t,’ Kaye said.

‘Pensioner, but also an activist. Tam Dalyell …’ Naysmith broke off.

‘The MP,’ Kaye stated. ‘I’m not completely glaikit.’

‘Well, he had a theory she’d been killed by MI5. They’d been paying a private eye to keep tabs on her …’

‘I’m not hearing anything about Francis Vernal.’ Kaye was scrunching the greasy wrappings into a ball.

‘Early eighties was also a hotbed of nationalism,’ Fox informed him. ‘Isn’t that right, Joe?’

Naysmith nodded. ‘SNP weren’t doing well in the polls, and that led some nationalists to look towards Ireland for inspiration. They reckoned a few explosions might focus London’s attention.’

‘Explosions?’

‘Letter bombs were sent to Mrs Thatcher and the Queen. Plus Woolwich Arsenal, the Ministry of Defence and Glasgow City Chambers – that last one on a day Princess Di was visiting. All these splinter groups: Seed of the Gael, SNLA …’

‘Scottish National Liberation Army,’ Fox explained for Kaye’s benefit.

‘Scottish Citizen Army … Dark Harvest Commando. That last one, they took a wee trip to Gruinard.’ Naysmith paused again.

‘Enlighten me,’ Kaye muttered.

‘It’s an island off the west coast. Infected with anthrax in World War Two.’

‘Germans?’ Kaye speculated.

Naysmith shook his head. ‘We did it ourselves. Planned to drop anthrax over Germany but wanted to test it first.’

‘After which Gruinard was uninhabitable,’ Fox added. ‘They took it off the maps to stop people finding it.’

‘But the Dark Harvest Commando went there and lifted some of the soil, then started sending it to various government agencies.’

‘Francis Vernal was involved?’ Kaye speculated.

‘Few years after he died, one reporter filed a piece. He said Vernal had been paymaster for the Dark Harvest Commando.’

‘Did he have proof?’

‘Information was harder to come by back then. Remember that book Spycatcher? These days it would be on the net, no way a government could stop people reading it.’

Naysmith looked up at Fox, and Fox nodded to let him know he’d done well. Naysmith smiled and pushed a hand through his hair.

‘I really got into it,’ he said, sounding almost embarrassed at his own enthusiasm. ‘Even found some clips of a TV show – Edge of Darkness.’

‘I remember that,’ Kaye broke in. ‘Big American CIA guy with a golf bag full of guns …’

‘It was about the nuclear industry,’ Naysmith elucidated. ‘Catches the paranoia of the time.’ He shrugged. ‘Seems to me, anyway.’

‘How much did you find about Dark Harvest Commando?’ Fox asked him.

‘Virtually nothing.’

‘Same here.’

‘For one thing, almost nobody ended up in court. For another, it just seemed to fade away.’

Fox nodded slowly.

‘Polaris and acid rain,’ Kaye mused. ‘Seems like ancient history.’ He slid from the sea wall and held the ball of rubbish above a bin. ‘See what I’m doing here?’ He tossed it in. ‘That’s what we should be doing with all of this.’ He brushed his hands together.

‘You really think so?’ Fox asked.

‘I know so. We’re not CID, Malcolm. None of this adds up to anything we should be part of.’

‘I’m not so sure.’

Kaye rolled his eyes.

‘Did Alan Carter kill himself?’ Fox asked quietly.

‘Maybe,’ Kaye stated after a moment.

‘If he was murdered …’

‘His nephew’s looking good for it.’

‘Paul’s adamant it wasn’t him.’

‘And nor is he a sleazebag who tries coercing women into giving him blow jobs.’

‘Oh, he’s a sleazebag all right. Doesn’t mean we should let them hang him out to dry.’

‘Let who hang him out to dry?’

‘That’s what I want us to find out.’

Kaye had moved towards Fox until their faces were a couple of inches apart. ‘We’re the Complaints, Malcolm. We’re not Mission: Impossible.’

‘I know that.’

‘Loved that show when I was a kid,’ Naysmith commented. Both men turned to look at him, then Kaye smiled a wan smile and shook his head.

‘All right then,’ he said, knowing he was beaten. ‘What do we do?’

‘You keep the investigation going – second interviews with the main players. That gives us our reason for being here.’

‘While you go snooping?’

‘Just for a day or two.’

‘A day or two?’

‘Scout’s honour,’ Fox said, pressing two fingers together and holding them up.