Alex Gray - Sleep like the dead

The transporter rumbled along, giving Brogan no clue as to whereabouts they were and he suddenly realised that this was how it was going to be. No matter what sentence was handed down to him for conspiracy to murder, he'd lost control of his own destiny for a long time to come.

And Marianne? What of her? Nobody had let him know a thing about his sister. Perhaps once he was incarcerated and part of the system he could find out what was going on from his brief. Brogan shrugged. Stupid thing to do, really, hiring Stevens to get rid of Ken Scott. Seemed to make sense at the time.

Surely helping his only sister get rid of a filthy stalker would cut some ice with a jury? he told himself, trying to justify his actions.

The vehicle slowed down and Brogan felt his body sway as it turned a corner. Instinctively he knew they had arrived. He took a deep breath. 'Right, Billy boy,' Brogan murmured to himself.

'Time to turn on the charm.'

Amit was walking beside the Hundi. It was autumn now and the city had wrapped itself in a mistiness that chilled him to the bone.

'We have to be careful, my friend,' the Hundi told Amit. 'There are many who would wish us to perish like our friend, Jaffrey.'

Amit nodded sagely. This Hundi had been good to him, hadn't he? Introducing him to Brogan and Marianne so that he could stay in this country, ensuring that his financial needs were taken care of and now, giving him the sort of fatherly advice that the younger man respected. Instinct had warned him to say nothing about the Hundi to that tall policeman, only mentioning Brogan's part in the transaction. And that was good, wasn't it? Amit felt the big man's hand rest upon his shoulder as they strolled through Kelvingrove Park, past the pond where a heron stood motionless, waiting to strike.

'Everything is fine with Dhesi?' the Hundi asked and Amit nodded.

'He is a good friend to me,' he said simply. 'And an honest business partner.'

The Hundi smiled to himself. Just so long as Amit Shafiq thought along these lines then all was well. It was unlikely that Brogan or his sister would mention him to the police. After all, what could they say? That a nameless Pakistani gentleman had fixed things for them? Where was this man? the police would want to know. And that was a question that they would be unable to answer. No. Their community had closed ranks against the likes of Brogan and even young Jaffrey would be too afraid to talk. `Dhesi is a good man,' the Hundi continued. 'And he is concerned for your welfare.'

Amit nodded again, his eyes fixed upon the path.

'Once your… matYiage. is terminated perhaps you might think of taking another wife?'

Amit swallowed hard as a sudden vision of the laughing red haired woman came into his mind.

'You've met his niece, the lovely Nalini?' he said, patting Amit's shoulder once more. 'She would make a man like you very happy, don't you think?'

Amit looked up at the man. What did he see? A large Asian dressed in an expensive suit and overcoat, cut to hide his immense girth; a man whose very presence dominated this narrow path.

No, that was not all that Amit Shafiq could see. He had learned to look past those outward trappings. Now he could see those little piggy eyes sunk in layers of flesh glittering with a hint of malice. And, as he saw the Hundi looking back at him, Amit felt an overwhelming sense of despair.

Had he come so far only to meet a different kind of evil?

Was it the same everywhere, after all? And was there never going to be any escape for someone like him? 'Perhaps,' Amit said at last with a sigh of resignation. 'Perhaps.'

Soily, wake up!' Rosie nudged her husband. 'Things have started to happen!'

Professor Solomon Brightman sat up in bed, hearing the note of excitement in his wife's voice. It was dark still. But what was it his mother had told him? Babies have a way of beginning in the night 'Are you sure?' he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

'The baby isn't due for another two weeks,' he protested.

Rosie chuckled. 'Tell that to this little critter,' she said. 'Oh!

That was a big one!' she exclaimed as a painful contraction seized her. 'Come on, Solly,' she urged, sweeping the bedclothes aside.

'Time to get me over to the hospital.'

'Maybe you'll meet Maggie Lorimer there,' Solly mumbled.

'What? Why will she be there?' Rosie frowned.

'Oh, dear, I wasn't supposed to tell you in your delicate state, was I?' Solly bit his lip. 'Maggie's had a hysterectomy,' he replied.

'Lorimer told me.'

'Och, the poor thing,' Rosie said. `So that's why she's been avoiding me,' she nodded then her face twisted in pain once more. 'Ooh, come on Solly, shift yourself. This wee one's not going to wait much longer.'

Maggie sat up in her bed, feeling the whirr of the fan that was wafting cool air over her sticky body. The first thing she had felt after waking up was a wonderful sense of euphoria that had taken her completely by surprise. She was still here, maybe not exactly in one piece, but alive and full of a calm acceptance that she had never expected to feel. Was it the aftermath of a general anaesthetic, perhaps? Or the human spirit's way of adjusting to change? 'Mrs Lorimer,' the nurse came into Maggie's room, her face wreathed in smiles. 'There's someone to see you.'

Who was here to see her? Not her husband, surely, for it was not visiting time yet.

Maggie looked towards the open door and the nurse's smiling face then gasped as she saw Rosie being wheeled into the room by Solly, a tiny bundle held in her arms.

'Oh,' she said at last, her eyes searching hungrily at the folds of cloth surrounding the newborn. 'Oh, I didn't know..

'Meet your god-daughter,' Rosie said, grinning up at her.

'Abigail Margaret Brightman.'

'Abigail!' Maggie gasped. 'It's a wee girl!'

Solly gave a boyish smile. 'Her name means father rejoiced,' he said, his voice full of pride.

Then, as Solly lifted the tiny bundle from his wife and placed Abigail into her arms, Maggie's tears began to flow.

'You will be her godmother, won't you?' Rosie asked, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Maggie nodded, too full to speak, as she gazed down at the little face with its tiny button nose and feathery eyelids against closed eyes.

'She's perfect,' Maggie whispered, cradling the baby against her breasts. She watched as Abigail gave a sigh and nuzzled against her, the little bow mouth opening expectantly.

Then everybody laughed.

'Come on, lady, back to your mum. Looks like it might be feeding time,' Maggie said tenderly, looking back at her friends.

Then, as Solly carried his daughter back to Rosie, Maggie put out a hand to touch his arm.

'Thank you,' she said.

Once they were gone, Maggie lay back against her bank of pillows, a radiant smile on her face. She had a god-daughter. Little Abigail Brightman would be a very special person in her life from now on.

Things never stayed the same, did they? Maggie thought, gazing out at the blue sky and the clouds that drifted past her window SoIly was a professor now, Rosie a mother; Bill was leaving his old job for that new promoted post at Pitt Street. And she had become a godmother. Life had a way of surprising you in all its vagaries, twists and turnings, she told herself.

Then, closing her eyes, Maggie Lorimer settled down to enjoy the peace of a dreamless sleep.