Quintin Jardine - Hour Of Darkness

I pointed through the plastic screen and across the road. Neither Mia nor our son had noticed the car that had been parked there for several minutes, or the two men who were standing beside it.

‘See those guys?’ I said. ‘They’re detectives of the Catalan police force. When I saw that warrant, I was duty bound, as a serving police officer, to seek to enforce it. I arranged for them to be here, Mia, because I had a suspicion that I would be meeting the man named on it. However, I had no suspicion that he was my son. So, my dear, you have put me in the position of being forced to hand him over.’

‘You could say it isn’t him,’ Mia suggested, hopelessly.

‘But John knows it is,’ I pointed out. ‘He’ll have his name on his employment records. Those cops know John; everybody in fucking L’Escala knows John.’

‘He could run for it.’ She was desperate.

‘No way. Those cops are armed; I’m not having him shot trying to escape.’

‘They could take me instead.’ She was starting to cry.

‘No, they couldn’t. Mia, you didn’t leave any DNA in the apartment, and you were never photographed behind the wheel of your van. Any traces you might have left on the outside of the chest were washed off in the water. There is no evidence that you were ever there.’

I glanced across the road again, and saw the two detectives begin to move towards us.

‘This is what’s going to happen,’ I said, quickly. ‘They’ll take Ignacio into custody, and I will ensure that he’s extradited to Scotland at once. I can have two guys on a plane tomorrow. Once he’s there,’ I promised, ‘I’ll arrange for his case to be handled by the best young lawyer in Scotland, who just happens to be his half-sister.

‘Mia, you’ll get yourself to Edinburgh and you’ll tell the story of what happened. . the true story, mind, all of it. . to Detective Inspector Sammy Pye.’

I took Ignacio by the arm and drew him to his feet.

‘You’ve done some stupid things in your life so far,’ I told him, ‘but as far as I can see you did them to protect your mother, and I respect that.’

I did and still do, but one question disturbs me. If I had brought Ignacio up, or been around to influence him, would he have turned out as he has, lumbered at age eighteen with a back story that will follow him all his life? Of course that’s another way of asking, if I had been in his shoes, if I had experienced the same circumstances, would I have done anything differently?

Lately that’s been dominating my madrugada thinking, and so far I haven’t been able to persuade myself that I would. But one thing I do know: from now on, as James Andrew grows, I will be watching him like a hawk, remembering my father’s words, with his dying breath, ‘Blood will out, always.’

‘When you’re in Scotland,’ I promised Ignacio, ‘I’ll use all the influence I have to get the best result I can for you. Whatever the outcome is, I promise you this. You’re my son and you’ll always be under my protection.’

I rode with him in the cops’ car, back to the Mossos d’Esquadra station, and I saw him booked in, all the way to the holding cell. I made it very clear also, to the officer in charge, that I’d be back to see him next morning, and that if there was a single scratch on him, their head man in Barcelona would hear all about it.

When I came out, Mia was waiting.

‘Have you got a car?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Then you’d better run us back down to La Clota. If I left without paying the bill, John would never let me forget it.’

‘What’s going to happen to Ignacio?’ she murmured as she parked beside the restaurant. I could see that her cheeks really were stained with tears, and that pleased me in an odd way. I had doubted that she was capable of them.

‘Worst case, life,’ I replied, harshly. ‘Best case, an acquittal on grounds of self-defence. I’d guess somewhere in between. I was going to ask for a sentencing favour for someone else, but that’ll have to go by the board now. I’ll use all the influence I have, call in all the debts I’m owed, for the boy.’

Tough luck, Max, but I’m sure you’d understand.

‘What will happen about the drugs,’ I continued, ‘I don’t know for sure, but if Booth can’t identify you, there’s a good chance you may be in the clear. If so, you’re a lucky little idiot. Honest to God, Mia, I wish it was you in that cell and not him.’

‘Lucky? You think I don’t wish that too?’ she retorted, bitterly. ‘Bob, what should I do now?’

‘Are you in a hotel here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then stick around until Ignacio’s on the way to Scotland. They’ll let you see him, I’m sure; I’ve squared that. Once he’s gone, follow him, as I told you. You’ll probably be arrested, but I’m pretty sure I can get you bail. Stay with Alafair, if she’ll have you. Actually she might welcome your support. I’m told that Hastie died this morning.

‘Hey,’ I exclaimed, unashamedly cynical, ‘that’s even more luck for you. He’d have been pressured into giving evidence against you in the drugs thing. Another secret gone to the grave. As it is now, unless Booth can identify you in a line-up, and unless the Spanish decide they’re interested after all, you’ll probably be in the clear.’

I got out of her car. As I watched her drive into the night, I couldn’t help wondering what future part she might play in my life. None, if I can help it. On the other hand, if she had come to me when she found out she was pregnant. . Who knows?

But I do know this, a man can’t have so many children that he can afford to miss a single moment in the life of any of them. Mia robbed me of eighteen years of Ignacio. I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss any more, whatever really lies inside him, whatever his terrible genetic mix has put there.

I went back to La Clota, squared up with John, and told him what had happened, leaving out the family side of things. Then I had another beer, sat on a couch in front of the restaurant and called Sarah, my place of safety in my hour of darkness. I knew that some more tough, sleepless time was looming, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

The place was almost deserted by then and I was glad, for I got pretty emotional. So did Sarah. When we were done, I don’t believe we’ve ever felt closer to each other.

I made one more call before I headed home, to Sandra Bulloch’s direct line, dropping a message on her voicemail to tell her I wouldn’t be in the office before Wednesday, and instructing her to call the Police Authority first thing in the morning and advise them that they would soon be receiving formal notice of the withdrawal of my application for the exalted post of Chief Constable of the new Police Scotland.

It had nothing to do with Ignacio, and his situation. I had decided, before I ever knew about him, that if the politicians wanted to make a stupid, unnecessary mistake, I wasn’t going to help them make it work.

I left then and started the walk home, the first steps of a longer journey. I have no clear idea where it will take me. My future may be within the police force, it may be outside. Whatever, it’ll be on my terms.

Who knows? As I reflected that night, as I passed the Palacio de Ginebra once more, this time I might even buy that damn boat.