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Nothing happened. Frowning, he pressed again. Still nothing. He searched in the open files section and located the removable disk icon. He clicked on it. The screen went totally blank. Literally dead, and totally inert. He felt a sudden chill descend on him, as if he’d stepped into an industrial freezer. What the hell was happening? Where was the kompromat?
He picked up his phone and went to the WhatsApp icon and looked at the last message from Droopy. He looked at the display, and it showed that he was still online. He began to compose a message, but then thought better of it. He needed to speak to the bastard.
He dialled, and listened to the tones in his ears. The phone diverted to the standard voicemail.
‘Please leave a message.’
He spoke in a hoarse whisper, ever aware of the nosy Maureen. ‘Droopy, what the hell is going on? The memory card is empty, and now my computer has gone blank. Call me urgently.’ He slammed the phone down on his desk, feeling his pulse beginning to whoosh in his ears, and beads of sweat forming on his top lip.
Suddenly the door burst open, and a shaven-headed man and a slim, younger woman entered the room with Maureen hot on their heels.
‘Mr Townsend, they just walked straight past me,’ her voice waslaced with anger, ‘how dare you, I’ve a mind to call the police,’ she spat as they totally ignored her and approached.
‘I’ve no idea who the hell you think you are, but I’m the bloody Crown Agent, and I will have you both remov—’ He stopped mid-sentence and looked at the shaven-headed man standing in the middle of the room, totally relaxed, appraising him with a look of amusement on his face.
‘DS Craigie …’ he began, but then the words died in his mouth, as the phone began to buzz on his desk. He glanced at the screen, and almost shrivelled in his clothes when he saw that it was Droopy calling.
‘You not going to answer that, Mr Townsend?’ said Max.
‘How dare you burst into my office? I’ll be sure to speak to the Chief Constable,’ he said, but his voice carried no authority whatsoever.
The phone’s buzzing was almost deafening in the stultifying silence of the dusty office.
‘It’s Droopy, isn’t it, Finn? It’s Gordy Malone, yeah? Go on, answer it,’ Max said. The buzzing suddenly stopped as the phone went to voicemail. Max pulled a phone from his pocket and raised it to his ear. ‘Hello, this is a message for the Crown Agent, the principle legal adviser to the Lord Advocate on prosecution matters. You’re under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Beata Dabrowski, and conspiracy to murder Jack Slattery, Steven Mitchell, David Hardie, Leo Hamilton, and soliciting the murder of Frankie Hardie.’ Max pressed a button on the phone, and then placed it back in his pocket. ‘Unfortunately, Droopy can’t come to the phone, Finn.’
74
FINN TOWNSEND SATon a fixed chair next to his solicitor, who had introduced herself as Moira Dougal. She was soft-spoken and friendly, but Max had detected a core of steel in her from the set of her shoulders, and dark, firm eyes. She opened a MacBook on the table, and nodded at Townsend.
‘Have you understood the caution, Mr Townsend?’ said Janie.
He nodded just once.
‘For the tape, please?’ said Janie.
‘I understand,’ he said, his eyes cast downwards.
‘Tell us what you know about the murder of Beata Dabrowski,’ said Janie.
‘No comment.’
‘Tell us about your relationship with Beata Dabrowski.’
‘No comment.’
‘How about your relationship with Gordon Malone, also known as Droopy?’
‘No comment.’
‘What were you expecting on that computer disk? What was the kompromat?’
Moira Dougal cleared her throat. ‘Just to reiterate, officers. My client has been advised to answer no comment to all questions. Now do you have any evidence of his complicity in the murder of Miss Dabrowski? I’m sure you realise that you must disclose it to us, yes?’
‘We’ve given the fullest appropriate disclosure, Ms Dougal,’ said Max.
‘So you say. Now I must say that beyond proving an association with Mr Malone, by communications data, I’ve had no material disclosed to me that constitutes evidence of my client’s complicity with any of the homicides. It is debatable that the evidence of a phone message allegedly from my client to the man you call “Droopy” constitutes sufficient evidence of any criminality. I’d venture to suggest that the evidence against Malky Douglas clearly puts him at the forefront of this inquiry, wouldn’t you say?’
‘That inquiry is ongoing. We have clear evidence that Mr Townsend is closely linked to Malone. He was witnessed collecting what he believed was compromising evidence against him.’
