The Duty

Monday 16th February 2015

Chapter 1

The woman regained consciousness as they rolled her out of the rug, the February night air chilling her head. The tears that had flowed earlier had crusted at the corners of her eyes, and she could feel mucous above her upper lip. She was still devoid of sensations below her neck, and couldn’t raise a hand to attend to her face. It had been stuffy in the car boot, and she had drifted into unconsciousness shortly after they’d bundled her into that dark place. She recalled the recent past.

When she’d first regained consciousness after the fall, she could smell the mustiness of her mouldy damp cellar room – the room that had become her sleeping quarters since arriving in Scotland. But overpowering that aroma was the stench like that of a toilet where people had dirtied the walls and floors. She’d retched as the smell hit her nostrils and vomit had ejected from her mouth.

She had been upside down, unable to move, and had an excruciating headache but had felt no pain from her body. That’s when she’d realised that the awful stink must have been from herself – the control of her bowel and bladder lost.

She’d heard voices above her and could tell the cellar door was open as light streamed down the precipitous brick stairs. The voices had descended and as they closed in, she could make out some words they’d spoken in her native language, mixed in with English. “What are you doing laying there?” Then “Disgusting.” But she couldn’t answer. The woman had touched her head and other words were heard: “broken neck, paralysed, illegal, and prison.”

They’d dragged her up the steps by her ankles, as if a side of meat, and into the hallway. She’d tumbled over and over as they rolled a rug around her. When she was fully encased, her lips had touched the wool and fluff stuck to them when she’d tried to breathe. She had passed out again.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard them conversing. What were they saying? She heard the woman say ‘identify’, then she was looming over her, a large stone in her hand – her face evil, devoid of any emotion.

Tuesday 17th

Chapter 2

The five-inch knife plunged into the young woman’s abdomen, glancing off her lower rib. Blood gushed from the wound as the attacker forcefully withdrew the knife, her body reluctant to release its grip on the blade. She screamed, then toppled sideways, her knees collapsing. She heard the crack of bone as her head struck a concrete block.

The man looked down at the woman who had tried to take his liberty, hatred in his face. He booted the hands that cradled her wounded belly as if trying to score a penalty. Someone stopped at the road’s end and looked towards him, so he turned and ran.

Her cheek lay on the hard road, her nose sensing the odours of tyre rubber, old engine oil, and cement. Her hands felt smashed from the force of the kick and sticky from the blood. Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed the disgusting acid, fighting the reflex to vomit her breakfast. As her consciousness faded, she looked at the row of garages, their aged paint dirty, peeling, scratched and graffitied. DI Una Wallace prayed that those ugly doors would not be the last thing she ever saw.

She had gone to the area because of a tipoff that a drug supplier was peddling smack to teenagers. It was a place that, although run down, could have a heart if only the junkies would let it. Dealers were in competition for territory. Fights, stabbings, and shootings had become regular occurrences. Smackheads broke into homes and mugged neighbours to fund their next fix. Una couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take one down.

She’d stopped her car on the road and walked towards the temporary drug market. Her prey was in sight, and Una realised she should have brought one of the DCs with her. She tried calling for backup, but her radio had failed. ‘Must be the battery again.’ She’d thought about phoning the office and hanging off until someone arrived, but she wanted to make this bust, and time was pressing.

Una was ambitious and confident in her abilities. She hated the criminals who chose to take from others, to take what most people had worked hard to gain. They stole money, valuable objects, and lives. They injured and killed innocent people. It was her job to stop them, and she wouldn’t back away from the challenge, even when it meant taking risks. This time, though, she’d made a mistake, driven by the determination to take out the scum, who, with his pals, had turned her parents’ home area into a nightly no-go zone. It was personal.

A passer-by heard the scream and ran to her side as the hooded man ran away. Una’s saviour dialled 999 on her mobile and spoke to the injured woman to reassure her. But Una had slipped into unconsciousness. As the rescuer answered the emergency service operator’s questions, the blood flowed from Una’s midriff, puddling on the concrete. Una never heard the soothing tone of the woman’s voice, nor the reassuring words. She didn’t see the woman remove her coat, bundle it, and press it against the oozing wound, in the hope it might stem the flow of her lifeblood.

Chapter 3

The two boys meandered their way along the riverbank, chatting inanely about their mums and school. They’d bunked off school again today. The morning had started damp and cold, but the sun had squeezed its way through the grey clouds, brightened the day, and the boys’ spirits. They were almost skipping along, picking up flotsam – a pair of beachcombers looking for treasures.

They’d never found anything exciting or of value on these expeditions and didn’t really expect to. But it was better than being in school. No stresses, no teachers pushing them to complete work, no bigger boys intimidating them. Fresh air and freedom. If they spotted a policeman, they’d be the excitement of evading capture to spice up their jaunt – to get their hearts pounding; to feel alive and in control, clever, streetwise, confident.

“Hey, Aaron, what’s that over there?”

“I don’t see nothing, Robbie. Where do you mean?”

“Over there,” he said, pointing to the muddy bank where the salty smell of the estuary emanated. A rotten fence pole and rusty barbed wired stood above it.

“Don’t know. Let’s have a look,” Aaron said, raising his voice over the sound of screeching gulls that circled overhead. The boys’ feet crunched loudly as they walked more determinedly across the pebbly beach, stepping over driftwood and other discarded articles as they moved towards the shape. When they got closer, their progress slowed as suspicion demotivated them. The object was mostly dark brown but had cloth attached to its middle and upper part. They both stopped open-mouthed, one metre away, their curiosity over-satisfied.

The two lads looked at each other, then stepped closer. It was definitely a woman. Her dirty white bra had shifted, exposing one breast. It reminded Aaron of a large Tunnock’s Tea Cake. Robbie immediately turned and ran off. Aaron moved aside the woman’s long hair and saw her face. He retched at the sight, then ran after his pal. “Hey, wait up. I’m coming with yer.”

The boys leapt back up the bank onto the concrete path that ran beside the beach, then ran off towards the shops. Robbie saw a man walking along the street and ran up to him. His Jack Russell wore a white-spotted red bandana, its lead taught from straining against the man’s reluctant wandering. Unlike the old guy who held it back, the little dog had energy and a sense of purpose – to reach the next lamppost and sniff the scent of other dogs, before leaving his own mark.

“Hey, mister. We’ve found a dead body. You need to call the polis.”

The man looked at the youngsters “Aye, sure you have.” He walked off, led on by his dog, ignoring their pleas for help. They ran on until they reached a local shop, its yellow signs declaring it open all hours, and crashed through the door.

“There’s a dead woman in the estuary. She’s the same colour as you.” Robbie said to the shopkeeper.

The man was shocked. “You’d better not be joking with me, lads.”

“We’re not,” they chorused. “Call the polis.”

He opened a door behind him and called up the stairs, “Ishraq. Come down and look after the shop. I have to go out.”

Ishraq wondered why her husband needed to go out unplanned, with no notice. She would have to leave the ironing until later. Asim was becoming more erratic these days. But she knew better than to argue with him. It wasn’t her place to challenge her man. “Okay,” she said.

He turned back to the boys, who were waiting at the door. “Show me where this body is. You’d better not be wasting my time, lads.”

The three left the shop, the boys running off towards the river and the man jogging behind, his large stomach jostling. The boys stopped on the banks and pointed to the body. Mr Salarzai couldn’t be certain what it was when he first saw it, so jumped down and walked closer. Stood next to the body, he bent and felt the neck of the woman. She was cold, clammy and pulseless, as expected. He looked at her face, then turned and cried. “My God. Who has done this dreadful thing to the poor woman?” His stomach tried to eject his lunch, but he clamped his lips closed and firmly cupped his mouth with his hand as he walked away.

He dialled 999, then explained what had been found and where. The first police car arrived ten minutes later, its sirens cutting through the peace. Two young female officers approached him. PC McPherson was the first to speak. “Mr Salarzai?”

“Yes, That’s me. The body’s over there,” he pointed. The constable jumped down onto the beach, her short dark hair hardly moving as she landed, and strode across to where the body lay, leaving her colleague, PC Smith, to note Mr Salarzai’s and the boys’ details.

After seeing the body, she radioed in to confirm the discovery of a dead woman, returning to her partner ashen-faced. Smith led Mr Salarzai and the boys further away as she concluded taking their statements, then asked them to wait while she conferred with her colleague. The policewomen got together to exchange details. “It’s horrible, Louise. Her face has been pulverised. She’s a real mess. Nearly made me vomit.”

Smith could see Kerrie was shaken by what she’d seen. Although both were in their early twenties, they’d already seen a few dead bodies, so this one must have been awful. “She’s Asian, right?”

“Aye. South Asian.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Asian could mean anything from Mongolian to Chinese. South Asia is the Indian sub-continent.”

“Oh, I see!”

Another police car arrived, and two male officers got out. The four colleagues huddled to discuss the situation, then the two men retrieved some sticks and crime scene tape from their vehicle, to create a cordon.

Their sergeant arrived in another car a few minutes later. After speaking with the constables, he pulled out his phone and dialled.

***

Chief Superintendent Ewan Robertson strode into Suzanna’s office without knocking His brow furrowed and his voice sounded stern as he spoke. “McLeod. Dreadful news!”

Suzanna looked up at the Chief Super, wondering whether he’d got to hear about her recent speeding offence and was about to suspend her. ‘No, it couldn’t be that – he looked sad, not angry.’

When he spoke again, his voice cracked: “It’s DI Wallace... She’s been stabbed and admitted to hospital. She’s in a bad way.”

Suzanna’s mouth opened in shock at the news. She was surprised to see the Chief Super emotional. She’d thought him to be a cold, pedantic, paper-pusher. His eyes looked like they were holding back tears. She stood, then asked, “What hospital, sir?”

“It’s the Western General but there’s no point going right now; she’s in a critical condition. You won’t get to see her until she comes out of theatre.”

DS Caitlin Findlay marched to Suzanna’s office, after taking a call about the River Forth body discovery. “Ma’am,” she said, then noticed the Chief Super. “Sir. Just had word that the body of a woman has been found washed up on the banks of the Forth, near the bridge at Queensferry. Seems to be of Indian descent. Uniform are on scene, and they’ve informed the duty pathologist.” Caitlin sensed that there was something else distracting the two senior officers from the news of the reported potential murder. She paused before continuing, wondering what it could be. “Who would you like to attend the scene?”

Recovering her composure, Suzanna responded. “You go, Caitlin. Take Murray or Owen with you. Report back when you’ve found out more, then we’ll decide who should lead the investigation.”

“OK, ma’am.”

“Caitlin, before you go. You need to know that Una Wallace is in hospital – in critical condition. She’s been stabbed. I’ll let you know when I hear more.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened at the news. “Is she going to be all right?”

“We don’t know yet. As I said, she’s in critical condition. I intend to go to the hospital as soon as she’s out of surgery. I’ll update you when I hear anything. Spread the word around the team, please Caitlin.”

“Right, ma’am. I’ll tell the others, then speak with the pathologist and talk with the lads who found the body.” She turned and strode away, the bun of her dark chocolate hair swaying with the motion of her walk.

“Keep me posted on this washed-up body and any news on Wallace.” The Chief Super said, then strode away, holding back tears. When he’d shut the door to his office, the tears flowed. Una was a lovely lass. Young, ambitious, intelligent. She was so much like the daughter he’d lost. Taken from him by the inhuman, reckless use of a knife, by a mugger who’d tried to snatch her bag and she’d resisted. She’d been 22 at the time – her whole life ahead of her. The mugger had stolen her future and robbed her parents of a wonderful daughter. He prayed that Una would pull through, wiped his eyes with a handkerchief, then sat at his desk and resumed work.

***

“Guys,” Caitlin said as she entered the main office. Owen, Murray, and Mairi turned. “Just heard from the Chief Super. Una’s in hospital. She’s been stabbed and is in surgery. She’s in a critical condition.”

“Bloody hell. How did that happen? She never let on where she was going when she walked out earlier,” Owen stated.

Caitlin ignored his question. “We’ve got a dead body in Queensferry – on the banks of the Forth estuary. The boss has tasked me with taking over for the moment. Murray, you’re with me.”

“Right-o.” He stood and grabbed his mobile and coat, then followed Caitlin out of the office, along the bland, grey corridor, down the lino-covered stairs, through the swing doors and out into the car park.