Page 147 of Better the Devil

The sergeant hesitated. ‘We, uh, we not just sending a team round, sir?’

‘No. Too noisy. Too risky,’ Logan said. ‘Me and you. Ben, find a way to keep Eleanor Belov here. Barricade the bloody door if you have to.’

Ben nodded, even if he didn’t fully understand. ‘Will do.’

‘Dave.’ Logan turned to the detective constable, another order already forming itself on his lips.

He stopped when he saw the state of him. Dave sat in his wheelchair, both hands clamped on top of his head as he stared in disbelief and horror at something on his screen.

‘What? What now?’ Logan asked.

‘No, no. I don’t… I don’t get this,’ Dave muttered. He hit refresh. Watched. Waited. Let out a strangled gasp that revealed that, whatever the problem was, it had not improved.

‘What’s the matter? What’s happened?’

‘It’s… I don’t understand. It’s her money,’ Dave said. He hit refresh again. Again. Again. ‘It’s Eleanor Belov’s money.’

He looked back over his shoulder at the others.

‘It’s gone,’ he said. ‘Her entire wallet’s been emptied.’

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

They keptthe sirens and lights on until they were just a couple of miles from the turnoff that would lead them onto the back road towards the bothy. The Cairngorm Mountains were barely visible against the night sky, little more than texture changes in the darkness.

There were no lights out here. No orange glow of a town on the horizon, no headlamps on distant roads. Just the car, and the dark, and the mountains watching on.

Logan sat in the passenger seat, Google Maps providing directions on his phone.

‘Left here,’ he instructed, and the sergeant slowed, checking his mirrors, before taking the turn onto a stretch of single-track.

‘Penis of the Demon,’ Fleck announced.

Logan shot him a sideways look. ‘Eh?’

‘The mountain. Devil’s Point. That’s its real name. Well, the English translation of the Gaelic, anyway,’ Gavin explained. ‘It’s about the only thing I remember my history teacher telling us. Think it was Queen Victoria or someone who asked what it was called, and they told her it was Devil’s Point, rather than tell her its actual name.’

He took another left. The car bumped and rolled on the uneven, narrow track, making it hard for Logan to check the map.

‘Or that could all be bollocks, I suppose. Mr Henderson didn’t half spill some shite.’

Logan didn’t say anything. He just consulted the map, checked the track winding along ahead of them, then tapped out a quick message and returned the phone to his pocket.

‘What do we do when we get there?’ Fleck asked.

‘We’ll talk to him,’ Logan said. ‘See if we can get him to hand himself in.’

Fleck shot him a glance. ‘You don’t think we should’ve called in backup?’

Logan watched the headlights dancing across the undergrowth that grew between the tyre tracks left by years of traffic.

‘Can’t risk the racket. I want Bosco alive.’

‘Course,’ Fleck agreed, and they continued along the track in silence until the lights picked out the boxy back end of a white transit van.

‘Engine off. Cut the lights,’ Logan instructed.

He checked his phone again as he got out of the car. The bothy was a few hundred yards ahead, down a worn pathway across terrain that would challenge even the most rugged of off-road vehicles.