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Cole stifled a cough. ‘Details are sketchy, Frankie. Davie left this morning with a couple of police officers, to help with an investigation of some type. During that time, there was a confrontation, and he was shot.’
‘But how? Did a cop shoot him?’ His voice rose, as the bubbling anger began to surface.
‘I don’t have details, but what I do know is that the shot came from outside the vehicle they were in, and that the cops are searching for the gunman,’ said Cole.
‘Wee Davie,’ said Frankie as tears welled in his eyes.
‘I’m sorry, Frankie. I’m told that the cops are appointing a family liaison officer, who will be coming soon today to update you.’
‘Who?’
‘Pardon,’ said Cole.
‘Which cop? I want a name.’
‘I’ve no idea, sorry.’
‘No way. No fucking way am I speaking to any random fucking cop. I need to get out of here, I can’t bloody stay here, that’s for sure. They’ve killed Davie, and they’ll be coming for me next.’ Frankie felt the familiar rage surging as he spoke through gritted teeth.
‘We’ll be doing a threat assessment now, Frankie, but we have no identified or actionable intelligence of a threat against you, personally. It looks like someone wanted to stop Davie escaping.’
‘Bollocks, it’s not that. If it was that, why isn’t every fucker dead, eh? They wanted Davie and Leo dead for a reason, which means they’ll want me dead for the same reason.’
‘What reason is that?’ said Cole.
‘Because of what I know, or at least what they think I know,’ said Frankie, sitting back in his chair and massaging his temples.
‘Frankie, you’re safe here …’ began Cole.
‘Shite. No one can protect me in here. I’ll be fucking dead before the end of the week. Now listen, Mr Cole. I’ll speak to the cops, but I’ll not speak to no random bastard. You tell them, I’ll speak to DS Max Craigie, but no other bugger, eh?’ he hissed, his neck tendons quivering like high tensile steel cords.
‘I can’t influence who’ll come, Frankie. Why this particular cop?’
‘Craigie’s a bastard, but he’s good, and he has one thing in his favour,’ Frankie said flatly.
‘What?’ said Cole.
‘He may well be the only straight cop in Scotland.’
32
THE WIND WASsweeping down the gentle slope from the copse of trees, and the dog was on it like a flash, nose up in the air, riding his leash up onto his hind legs and barking furiously, his handler struggling to contain the animal. Ross, Max, Janie and the armed officer were almost having to jog to keep up.
‘Now … I’m nae dog expert, pal … but it seems like el-poocho … has something in its nostrils, and it’s not my aftershave,’ said Ross, huffing and puffing as they ascended the slope, the armed officer sweeping ahead of them.
‘Aye, boss. She’s wind scenting from the trees, but not strong enough. I don’t think anyone’s there, or she’d be really wanting off the lead,’ said the dog handler, straining to hold the big dog back.
‘Jesus, that’s one angry Alsatian. I wouldn’t want her biting my arse, you want to let her go? I wouldn’t cry if she ripped the fucker’s throat out,’ puffed Ross as he struggled to keep up with the quickening pace.
‘Nah, we’re good, and she’s a Belgian Malinois, not a shepherd.’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘The SAS use these buggers to kill Afghan insurgents, so maybe keep her on, eh?’ said Max.
‘She’s good as gold, pal. Hasn’t bitten a cop for ages.’
‘Define “ages”?’ said Janie.
