Storiesonline.net ------- The Romantic Vigilante by Scotland-the-Brave Copyright© 2008 by Scotland-the-Brave ------- Description: Scarred emotionally he nonetheless has a goal in life. Then he's thrown by a number of surprising reactions and finds himself wading deeper and deeper into the mire. Can she save him from himself? Will his 'good' side win out in the end? Where are the limits of society? When is it okay for good people to fight fire with fire in the battle against evil? Codes: MF mf ff rom 1st teen non-con inc bro sis oral ------- ------- Chapter 1: Meet our 'hero' On the face of it, it was a 'normal' Thursday afternoon in May on the Southside of Glasgow. Parts of Pollokshaws were considered dangerous for the unsuspecting. Something of a high-rise concrete jungle, it was certainly well off the beaten track for tourists although not too far from the cultural oasis that housed the extensive Burrell art collection - Pollok Park. There was nothing out of the ordinary either in the look of the hunched figure that walked at a steady pace along Shawbridge Street, nearing the Portcullis. The Portcullis pub was pretty seedy, run down. It stood on a corner and although it might have had windows the roof to pavement heavy metal roller-shutters that formed most of its façade hid them away. The paint on the sign was old, stained and flaking. There was nothing welcoming about it at all; even the late spring sunshine did nothing to brighten its appeal. The Portcullis was one of a number of bases used by members of Glasgow's Cullen 'clan'. Headed up by Rab 'the tram' Cullen, the clan was perhaps the strongest criminal gang in the city although they were by no means the only players in town. Inside Stevie 'the joker' Miller was collecting loan payments for the clan. The origins of his nickname were obvious to anyone who had the misfortune to meet him. A rival had at one time taken a blade to Stevie's mouth, slashing upwards from each corner to leave a macabre permanent smile. The irony of his name, nickname and their coincidence with the album by a well-known rock star was lost on the thug however. Loan sharking was just one of the illegal activities of the Cullen clan, but it had a niche in their overall scheme of things. They loaned money, mostly to very poor pensioners and families down on their luck, and charged three hundred percent interest. The outrageous profit made helped fund the trafficking of the drugs the clan peddled to Glasgow's youth - heroin, cannabis, e, smuggled cigarettes - all age ranges were covered by the clan. They were truly an equal opportunities outfit. Stevie sat at a table inside the bar, listening to another 'customer' plead for more time to pay as she complained about the amount of the outstanding debt. He had no idea that fate had decided his time was up. The woman was one of life's real unfortunates. She was overweight, her hair bottle blonde and stringy. The ravages of living a hand-to-mouth existence in Glasgow's poverty stricken schemes had taken their toll and her complexion was almost grey, her eyes sunken, bags pronounced under them. "It canny be as much as that! I only borrowed fifty quid. How can the interest be twenty quid a week? I've already paid you back more than a hundred in the last month," she whined. Outside, the figure reached the door of the Portcullis. Pausing for a heartbeat at the entrance, he rolled the black skullcap down his face - exposing the fact that it was in fact a ski mask with carefully shaped holes for the eyes and mouth. Having watched the place every day for the last week, he knew the only other ways in or out were the fire exit and the delivery entrance at the rear. Satisfied his face was now fully concealed; he pushed the bar door open and walked inside. He moved forward purposefully, his steely blue eyes adjusting quickly to the gloom. Despite the national smoking ban in Scotland, the single room was wreathed in the pall of cigarette smoke. The bar itself ran along the entire wall which faced the entrance. To his left he saw his target sitting at a table, another man stood behind the table and slightly to the right. Continuing forward, the masked figure's right hand slipped inside his jacket, along the right hip and pulled the gun from the waistband of his trousers at the small of his back. The Browning HP semi-automatic came level just as the 'Joker' glanced over the woman's shoulder, noticed the ski mask and realised something was horribly wrong. Even as the gun was rising, the eyes in the ski mask flitted round the room, assessing possible dangers. It took only a fraction of a second to register the half a dozen other people waiting to pay the loan shark their weekly interest payments. Besides the 'enforcer' who stood behind the table, the only other occupant of the bar was the man behind counter. He was singled out as a threat and his position mentally logged. "What the fuck..." was all that the 'Joker' managed to get out as he tried to stand. The Browning barked loudly in the confined space, the muzzle flash bright in the gloom. The single slug was deadly accurate despite the target being in motion. A surprisingly small hole appeared in the 'Joker's' forehead while a large clump of hair, bone, gristle and brain tissue exploded from the back of his head. Blood splattered the wall and the 'Joker's' accomplice who was standing behind him. In a panic now, the enforcer, Willie MacMinn, screamed and ran for the fire exit. The masked figure moved impossibly quickly now, bursting into controlled motion. Going forward two paces to close the distance and clear the remaining pensioners, he took in the sight of MacMinn pushing desperately against the bar of the fire exit. He pulled the trigger of the Browning once more. Pausing only long enough to confirm his target was down and then to fire another round into the back of the prone figure's head, he swung towards the bar. The bartender was trying to swing a stubby, sawn-off, double-barrelled shotgun towards the masked man. He should have had enough time to manage it, but he was frightened beyond belief and his nerves made him clumsy and uncoordinated. His eyes widened with fear and the realisation that he was not going to be quick enough. The whole world seemed to shrink until all he could see was the impossibly large round hole at the end of the Browning's barrel. His eyes rolled upwards in their sockets, his bowels voided themselves and a wet stain of urine suddenly marked the front of his trousers. Mercifully, he was already in a dead faint when the 9mm slugs slammed into his chest. The Browning barked twice in quick succession and the barman was kicked backwards. His body smashed ruinously into the gantry bringing spirit bottles and glasses tumbling down to shatter. They created a sharp bed of shards for the dead body to fall onto. The shotgun dropped from lifeless fingers and clattered to the floor. Still calm, the masked figure moved to the table, ignoring the shrieks from the bottled blonde. He stooped and quickly retrieved a handgun from the 'Joker's' spent body and also hefted a sports bag that had been under the table. Opening the bag, he withdrew several bundles of banknotes and thrust them inside his jacket. He walked down the tables occupied by the petrified pensioners, tipping wads of notes out in front of them as he went before dropping the now empty bag on the floor of the pub. Only three minutes had passed since the masked figure had entered the Portcullis to dispense his own form of summary justice and he now walked back out of the door. Onto Shawbridge Street, he immediately ducked down the alley that ran along the side of the pub. He swept up the plastic bag he had stashed, removed the two rubber wedges that had effectively jammed the fire exit and dropped them into the bag. It only took seconds for him to strip off the dark over-trousers to reveal a pair of faded blue jeans and then he reversed his jacket so that it was now a dark burgundy instead of the black it had been moments before. The ski mask went into the bag and the Browning was returned to his waistband. In mere seconds the vigilante walked at an easy pace from the opposite end of the alleyway. The walk along Pleasance Street and Coustonholm Road took minutes and he slipped up the lane that led to Pollokshaws East railway station. His timing was perfect and for once the Strathclyde Passenger Transport train was running to schedule. His ticket had been purchased in advance and he simply had to climb aboard and find a vacant seat. Staring out of the train's window, he watched the dense housing of Shawlands and Pollokshields pass in a blur. Less than fifteen minutes later the train slowed as it crossed the spaghetti of merging railtracks just outside the Victorian Glasgow Central station. Climbing down from the train, he used his ticket to pass through the platform barriers and lost himself in the afternoon crowds inside the station. He was just another face in the crowd, nothing out of the ordinary. ------- Half an hour later the vigilante closed the door of the one car garage and sat on an old chair as he carefully cleaned and oiled the Browning. He reloaded it and removed the panel from the wall to hide the weapon and the ski mask away. The 'Joker's' weapon and the cash joined them. He climbed the stairs, entered his room and sat on the single bed. Seventeen-year old Gavin MacSween held his arms out in front of him and stared at his hands. They were rock steady, not even a slight tremor. He was somewhat surprised at just how calm he was. His life for the last nine years had somehow been leading up to this day and even at the moment he paused outside of the pub he had been unsure if he had the nerve to do what he had thought about constantly over those years. Gavin examined his own reactions, his emotions, and his conscience after having just gunned down three men in a premeditated, planned execution. He didn't feel at all like he thought he would. The overriding feeling was one of satisfaction. No guilt, no remorse, no fear. The minutes inside the Portcullis were etched into his mind with photographic clarity. Ironically he had never felt more alive than he had in the moments when he was the architect of death. The rush of adrenaline had somehow been converted into icy efficiency. And what a rush! Yes, he felt satisfied. Gavin lay back on his bed and let his memories flood his consciousness. 1998 Eight-year old Gavin heard the raised voices in the sitting room and then the sharp slap followed by his mother's scream. Fearfully he crept along the hall and peeked in through the slightly open door. He was shocked to witness three men wrestling his mother to the floor, ripping her clothing off violently in the process. His mother whimpered as the men took it in turns to climb onto her naked body, thrusting brutally into her. The last man had been the most brutal however. Gavin gasped aloud when he caught sight of the man's face. The features were scarred by a grotesque parody of a smile, with scars running up both cheeks to artificially elongate his mouth. Scarface flipped Gavin's mother over and spit on her ass, rubbing his saliva around her butthole before spearing his hard cock into her in one thrust. Another pitiful scream came from his mother then and Gavin watched transfixed, as the man on her back circled her throat with his rough hands and slowly choked the scream off. Still young he didn't fully comprehend what was happening, but he knew it wasn't good. The sound of the man's grunts was horrid to listen to, as was the sound of the two others urging him to go faster, to thrust harder. With one final loud grunt the man stiffened for a moment and then slumped forward over his mother's back. His hands were still round her throat and after a few moments he threw her aside and stood to his feet. Gavin's fear at this point had somehow unfrozen his feet and he had scuttled back down the hallway to his room. Burrowing down into the bottom of his cupboard, he was almost too frightened to breathe. It was several hours later before he summoned the courage to crawl from his hiding place to go check on his mother. When he couldn't get her to move he ran to the only neighbour who had a telephone and begged her to phone for an ambulance. The ride to the hospital was a terrifying experience. Gavin watched as the paramedics worked on his mother, attaching various drips and massaging her heart. A trolley had been waiting at the Southern General Hospital's emergency entrance when the ambulance pulled up. Gavin watched as his mother was rushed inside and a smiling nurse put her arm round his shoulders and gently urged him forward. An hour or so later a tired looking doctor entered the small waiting room the nurse had parked him in. Gavin could tell from the look on his face that he bore bad news. He might only be eight, but he was a very bright boy and in the harsh reality of life in the Glasgow schemes he had learned well how to read non verbal signs. "Look son, I'm dreadfully sorry but your mother hasn't made it I'm afraid," the doctor said. He looked sad, drawn and clearly found it difficult to pass on his message to the young boy. The nurse had already shared the information she had managed to worm out of Gavin and both the police and social services were waiting to speak to him. As an only child with no apparent surviving relatives, social services would need to offer counselling support and try to find a family to take him in. The police had been alerted to the violent nature of Nora MacSween's death and were keen to find out everything Gavin knew about the circumstances. ------- The next few days were a blur for Gavin, dizzying. He spent hours with some of Strathclyde's finest, as they quizzed him for details of his mother's last few hours. He wasn't proud of himself. He had done nothing to try to save his mother and his fear had driven him into hiding in the cupboard rather than get help for her more quickly. The crushing guilt Gavin felt and the remaining fear about what the scarred man might yet do to him combined to make him a reluctant witness. He claimed to have seen nothing of the assault on his mother or of the people who had been involved. The police weren't fooled for a minute, they could sense he was holding something significant back and they pressed him hard. Only the stern warnings of the social worker that sat in on all of the questioning called a halt to the intensive interrogation. "Can I remind you detective that this young man lost his mother only yesterday? I don't think it's at all appropriate to badger him in this way, he's only eight for goodness sake" she scolded. That intervention signalled an end to the worst of Gavin's ordeal at the police station and he was released into the care of social services a few hours later. His relief was short lived however, as he was now acutely aware that he had no one to look after him and nowhere to go. Mrs MacCluskey, the social worker assigned to him, took him to the social work offices and sat him down for a chat. She sent someone out to buy some sandwiches and began the sensitive task of trying to build a relationship with her young charge. She gently tried to explore how his mother's death and the aftershock of it were affecting him. Gradually Gavin opened up to her, she had after all saved his bacon in the police station and he felt that he could trust her a little, but it was only a little. "I want you to know that I won't tell the police anything you don't want me to," she said. Gavin knew immediately where she was headed and squirmed uncomfortably. Mrs MacCluskey saw that and backed off quickly. "Okay, okay we don't need to talk about police matters if you don't want to. How about you tell me how you're feeling in general, how you're coping with things?" she asked. Gavin thought quickly and felt that this was much safer ground. He really did want to talk to someone about his fears. "I'm kinda scared about what's going to happen to me. I realise I've got nowhere to go and no one to look after me," he said quietly, his head down. "That's perfectly understandable but there's no need to worry about it, really," she replied, "we'll find a good family to look after you while we figure things out." Her heart was almost breaking at the lost look on the young boy's face, the anguish, the tears that were clearly not far off the startlingly blue eyes. "I... , I couldn't help her. Mfff, mfff," he sniffed back the tears, determined to try and show some kind of strength. Will they com ... com ... come back for me?" The social worker realised that he was feeling what must be an almost crippling set of emotions - guilt, fear, grief, loss, isolation. She knew she had her work cut out for her if she was to help this damaged young man. His scrawny shoulders shuddered as the tears finally came and she watched as his head dropped and the tears dripped slowly onto the vinyl floor of her office. She let him pour out his grief for a few minutes before saying anything else. "Gavin, I need to find you somewhere to live for a few weeks while we sort out how we are going to look after you long term. Do you feel up to going back to your house to gather up some clothes and things to tide you over?" she asked. The prospect of doing something seemed to help Gavin, letting him focus on something other than his guilt and fear. Despite the fact he would need to return to the 'scene of the crime' he nodded to indicate he was up to the task. Mrs MacCluskey drove to the high-rise in Carnwardrick and carried a small overnight bag with her to pack some of Gavin's belongings. He wandered through his own room, picking out his favourite clothes and packing the few small treasures that he had accumulated. The last things to go into the bag were the four books he had found around the house. Gavin secretly believed they had once belonged to his long gone father. All four were westerns. Three of the books were written by Louis L'Amour - Sackett, Mojave Crossing and Lonely on the Mountain. The fourth was by an author called JT Edson and called Arizona Range War. He still found it difficult to read the stories but he liked to try to follow William Tell Sackett and Cap Rountree, while Dusty Fog seemed to always be a David fighting off Goliaths. Somehow they comforted him, perhaps as he saw the books as a link to his missing father. ------- Gavin found himself taken in by a family who provided short-term foster care for Glasgow council. George and Amelia Gray were in their late forties and had two grown up children of their own. They were nice enough if a little strict. The next two weeks passed in something of a daze until Mrs MacCluskey returned to inform him that she had a family who were interested in him joining them longer term. "I'm sure you're going to like the Anderson's, Gavin. Mr and Mrs Anderson have a daughter who is a year younger than you and they've always wanted a boy," she told him. That had been the start of the years of recovery and planning. ------- May, 2007 Gavin sat up and shook his head to clear his thoughts. A lot of water had passed under the bridge since that awful afternoon nine years ago. He remembered as an eight-year old carefully cutting out the newspaper articles that covered his mother's death. He read avidly for any clues as to who the men were who had raped and killed her. No arrests had ever been made, but speculation in the newspapers pointed the finger of suspicion. Today he had avenged his mother. The man who had choked the life out of her was of course Stevie 'the Joker' Miller. Yes, he did feel satisfied. Over the years the grief had lessened. He had worked hard to build himself up and overcome his fear, but he had achieved that. Today however, for the first time, the intense feeling of guilt he had endured all these years, guilt at having done nothing to save his mother, guilt at having hidden in the cupboard for hours while her final breath might have deserted her, had lifted a little. He felt lighter somehow, but the sense of closure he had expected wasn't there. Instead, Gavin felt as if he was at the start of something rather than at the end of his journey. He didn't quite understand that, but for some reason he felt a sense of anticipation. "Gavin, Gavin, are you up there sweetheart?" he heard his mother call. "Yeah mom, what is it?" he replied. "Your dinner's almost ready. Wash your hands and get yourself down here." "Okay, mom." Gavin realised that he must have zoned out for at least a couple of hours if it was dinner-time already. When he bounced downstairs he found his 'father', Glen and 'sister', Fiona in the sitting room watching the evening news. He didn't blink an eye as the journalist on the screen reported the triple murder shooting in Pollokshaws. "Gillian, eye-witnesses tell me a masked man ruthlessly gunned down three men inside this Glasgow pub this afternoon. The Portcullis is widely recognised as a base for the infamous Cullen clan and my sources tell me all three of the dead men had associations with that gang." "Mark, it sounds like it has all the hallmarks of a gang turf war?" "That's my understanding, Gillian. A spokesman for Strathclyde police would only tell me that a number of lines of enquiry are actively being pursued." "If only they would all kill each other off," Glen Anderson said abruptly, "we'd all be better for it. Aye and safer." Gavin smiled as his 'mom' brought dinner in from the kitchen. ------- Chapter 2: Tit for tat "Who did it? WHO FUCKING DID IT?" screamed Rab 'the tram' Cullen. His foot soldiers were all careful to avoid eye contact with their leader. They had experience of his towering rages and knew no one was safe if he decided to lash out. Cullen had earned his nickname through his unique, evil and vicious method of scarring his victims. From the age of sixteen he had carried a Stanley knife - a razor sharp box cutter. What made Cullen different from many other knife-carrying youths in Glasgow's gang culture was the way he modified his weapon of choice. By fitting two blades to the box cutter, separated by the width of a broken piece of matchstick taped in place, the resulting wound was virtually impossible to stitch together neatly. The scars produced were truly horrific to see - like a tramline, and so the name Rab 'the tram' Cullen was born. Probably borderline insane, Cullen ordered violence or carried it out himself as easily as breathing. His own men were just as likely to be the target of his easy aggression as anyone else was. As a result, only one of those in the room had the nerve to answer. Fraser Gilchrist was the closest thing the clan had to an intellectual. Most of the members were brutal, cunning even, but he was a notch above them all. While not exactly book smart he was still very bright and could run rings round the others, even Cullen himself. His normal role was in managing the flow of money around the organisation as well as laundering it when necessary. "Our grasses don't know anything. If it was one of the other clans then no one is saying anything," Fraser said now. "Well get out there and find out Gillie. I WANT ANSWERS! NO ONE FUCKS WITH ME AND GETS AWAY WITH IT. Somebody has to pay." A heavy crystal glass went sailing across the room and exploded against the wall. "Jimmy, get in here!" snarled Cullen. A broad shouldered man of about 6'2" entered the room nervously. Despite having four inches on his boss he was no match for the ruthless clan head and he kept his eyes down. "While the bean counter here finds out exactly who did this I want you to whack some of the opposition as a fucking warning." "Boss, I don't think that's such a great idea," said Fraser. "Who's fucking asking you? Get out of here and do what I told you!" "Rab, you're going to start a turf war," Gilchrist warned, knowing he was pushing his luck with his already angry boss. "It's maybe slipped past you but somebody else has already started a war ya smart prick. I'm gonna make sure I finish it but. Now, fuck off!" replied Cullen. ------- It was at times like these that Fraser thought his life really sucked. He had somehow drifted into the hardened world of gangland Glasgow, graduating from petty crime as a teenager and several short sentences in youth offender institutions. Violence was definitely not his thing and on the few occasions when he was dragged into it, when he saw it up close and personal, it sickened him and he questioned what he was doing mixed up in it. He had tried twice before to 'retire', but Cullen knew his value to the clan and had made it clear there was only one way for him to retire - to do so permanently, in a box. "I'm surrounded by a bunch of fucking gorillas, in fact that's an insult to gorillas," he thought. "How did I end up in this fucking mess? Well at least I don't have to deal with that prick Miller anymore." Fraser had had an uneasy relationship with Stevie Miller inside the clan. For some reason Miller had taken great delight in constantly needling him, perhaps in response to feeling inadequate beside Fraser and jealous of his standing with Cullen. "Glasgow's a better place without the maniac. Whoever slotted him has done the rest of us a big favour," he thought, a smile reaching his mouth. He climbed into a series three BMW with two minders and they headed out onto the streets of Glasgow to try and find some answers - "before Rab kills half of the city," he thought. ------- Gavin enjoyed the relaxed family banter around the dinner table. He looked round the faces and felt grateful for what the Anderson's had given him. Glen Anderson, his wife Christine and their daughter Fiona had played a large part in the recovery of the damaged young man Gavin had been nine years before. The first six months with the Anderson family had been difficult. Social services had only told the family that Gavin had been recently orphaned, leaving out the details of his mother's violent ending. Christine had sat with him on the nights his nightmares had been at their worst, wondering what he had endured to inspire such terror. The Anderson's were a working class family with basic protestant values. The security provided by the family unit around Gavin had probably done more to help him slowly heal than anything else. Ironically, he undoubtedly had a better upbringing with the Anderson's than he ever would have had if he had remained with his own mother. Glen and Christine constantly encouraged him and his confidence grew as the years passed. The young Gavin had gradually come to terms with his mother's death and a focus began to emerge for the youngster. He worked hard at school. When he found himself the target of bullies for being a good student, he was determined to do something about it. He hadn't forgotten his fear and overcoming it now was one of the goals he set himself early on. He persuaded the Anderson's to let him begin to study martial arts and took up swimming to build up his stamina. It wasn't long before the bullies learned to leave Gavin alone and as a result his confidence grew even more. Things were good for Gavin. He had a stable home environment, was doing well at school and was competing successfully at a national level in swimming. Life got even better in his second year at St Andrew's High School. Fiona, his 'sister' had started first year, a year behind him, and two months into the year he came across four older boys picking on her. More than three years of martial arts three times a week and swimming every day had turned Gavin into a solid, fast, lump of muscle. His feeling of gratitude to the Anderson's and his reading habits (of which more later) caused him to see himself as something of a white knight in this situation. He remembered the incident vividly. 2003 Turning the corner in the school grounds on his way to second year physics, Gavin found four boys who had cornered a younger girl. Her book bag was already on the ground and her textbooks were strewn around. He had instantly decided to intervene - William Tell Sackett wouldn't allow a woman to be subjected to this," he thought - when he recognised the girl. It was Fiona. "Leave her alone Smith!" Gavin said in a low menacing voice. "Fuck off, geek! This has got nothing to do with you," the boy replied. Two of the other boys rounded on Gavin, their numbers giving them a sense of superiority. "Yeah, fuck off swot. This is none of your business!" one of them added. "She's my sister, that makes it my business. Now leave her alone," Gavin replied. He was already calculating how he would handle the four of them and had moved his feet and stance to balance himself in readiness. Gavin still hoped they would simply let it drop, but he didn't expect them to. Adam Smith was one of a gang of boys who were constantly causing trouble around the school. While Smith and the other boy continued to struggle with Fiona, the two who had turned on Gavin began to circle him, trying to make sure one of them could take him from behind. His martial arts training regularly involved fighting against multiple opponents and the situation didn't faze Gavin at all. He was confident enough to even keep one eye on what was happening to Fiona. When he saw her fall to the ground under the other two boys he decided he had to end this quickly. Gavin feinted an attack on the boy in front of him and then dropped down, anticipating the opponent behind him would try to rush him. His guess had been right and he was able to sweep his attackers legs out from under him, causing him to crash to the concrete yard with a yelp. Springing up athletically, he swung his leg in a high arcing roundhouse, catching the second boy on the very point of his chin. The boy's head snapped back and his eyes became glassy at the force of the kick. Gavin spun again and stamped on the leg of his first attacker who was still on the ground. Satisfied that the first two were no longer an immediate threat, he leapt towards where Smith and the remaining boy were still wrestling with Fiona. To give her her due, she was fighting for all she was worth and Smith and his accomplice were already scratched and bitten. Gavin didn't waste time with any further warnings and didn't feel bad in the least for attacking Smith from behind. His right arm swept from right to left in a blur, his hand stiffened knife-like, as it delivered a vicious kite strike to the liver. Smith howled and rolled over clutching his side in agony. The last remaining attacker whirled round and took in the sight of his three buddies all in a heap. He wasn't feeling so brave any longer and opted to run for it before he suffered a similar fate. "Are you alright sis? What happened?" Gavin asked, as he crouched to help her to her feet. He made sure to keep the three groaning boys in sight the whole time, wary of another attack. Gavin knew the danger wasn't over yet. They could both be in trouble for fighting if he didn't do something immediately to address that. "Come on sis, we need to get to the school office and report this before they do and try to twist what happened." Fiona was still racing on adrenaline and not quite in the here and now. Gavin took her hand and tugged her along with him towards the school office. Fortunately a teacher had witnessed the whole incident from a classroom window and he arrived at the school office right behind Gavin and Fiona. The Anderson's were called. Christine was at home and rushed to the school to make sure they were okay. By the time she arrived the head teacher was also in the school office and had been brought up to date on what had happened. Christine burst into the office, her concern obvious despite the reassuring message that the school had passed on. "Oh god! Fiona, are you alright? Gavin, what happened?!" she cried as she burst into the room. "They're both fine, Mrs Anderson. It seems Gavin here is quite the hero. Four boys were trying to take money from Fiona and things got violent when she refused to hand it over. Fortunately, Gavin stumbled on the scene before Fiona was hurt and he dealt with all four of her attackers. Mr Patterson here witnessed the whole thing and he was really impressed with the speed with which Gavin managed to get the boys off of Fiona," said Mrs Walsh, the head. Christine was stunned. Gavin had single-handedly beaten off four boys? "Now, Gavin has also performed a service for the student body at large. The four boys involved are known troublemakers and he's now given me the perfect justification to exclude them all. St Andrew's will be a better place without them here. Their parents have all been summoned to the school. Will you be pressing charges, Mrs Anderson?" the head asked. Christine was unprepared for the question and she glanced at Fiona and Gavin. Both gave an imperceptible shake of their heads, knowing that to press charges would not play well with their fellow students. "Neither of them seem to be the worse for wear so perhaps the exclusion will be punishment enough," Christine answered the head. "In the circumstances I think that Gavin and Fiona should be excused for the remainder of the day," suggested Mrs Walsh. Christine simply nodded and rose to usher both of them out of the office and into the car park towards her Volkswagen Polo. Fiona pulled Gavin into the back seat for the journey home, hugging his arm, clearly keen to keep her rescuer close for a while yet. Christine eyed them in the rear view mirror and realised her daughter had had more of a fright than she had at first thought. As the adrenaline was draining away, Fiona was facing up to the fact that she had come close to being seriously hurt and that only Gavin's intervention had saved her. "Shit, did he really take on four boys on his own to save me?" she thought to herself, shivering at the memory of being cornered on her own. Did he really say I was his sister? Did he call me sis?" she asked herself. She held onto Gavin's arm even tighter then in the backseat, her emotions playing clearly across her face for her mother to see and read. At dinner that night Fiona went through the whole episode again for her mother and father. Her perspective was somewhat coloured by what was beginning to be almost hero worship of Gavin and her description of his actions was exaggerated as a result. Gavin shook his head with a sheepish grin on his face. "You did well, Gavin. Not many boys would have the courage to take on odds like that," Glen said as he patted Gavin on the back. "Dad, he told the boys I was his sister! Is that true now?" Fiona asked. Glen and Christine shared a raised eyebrow moment over the kid's heads. Christine nodded to her husband. "Gavin is your brother as far as we are concerned sweetheart," Glen replied, pleased to see the broad smile that brought to Fiona's mouth. Neither Gavin nor Fiona realised that her words had finalised a decision Glen and Christine had been discussing for the past eighteen months. The following week they waited until Fiona was at a friend's house and sat Gavin down for a 'talk'. "Gavin, you've been with us for nearly four years now. Are you happy here?" Glen asked. Gavin immediately grew concerned at the nature of the question. Was his time with the Anderson's coming to an end? Glen saw the look and hurried on. "It's just that Christine and I have been discussing your place here in our family for some time now. How would you feel if we legally adopted you?" he asked. Gavin at first experienced relief and then something else. A warm feeling began to spread from the pit of his stomach. He had grown close to the Anderson's in the past four years and he realised he had a lump forming in his throat. Despite the fact he had worked hard to toughen up and hide his emotions he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn't speak and simply nodded. Christine rushed to hug him and stroke and bury her face in his fine brown hair. "We all love you very much sweetheart," she whispered into his hair. "You heard Fiona last week, she's absolutely delighted that you're her brother. That was the final thing that decided us. We were worried about how she would react; worried that she might feel we loved her a little less. It's clear that's not going to be a problem." Gavin found his voice at last. "Does that mean I can call you mom and dad from now on?" he asked. "That would make me very happy, son," Christine answered, a catch in her voice now. "And I'm already proud of you as my son," Glen added. 2007 The memory of the fight and the declaration of love from Christine brought a renewed smile to Gavin's face as he looked round the dinner table. He had thought of them as his mom and dad from that moment on. However, having parents had if anything intensified his growing obsession with avenging the death of his real mother. He had to make sure he didn't lose another mom and that was part of what yesterday's executions had been about. Fiona had been totally in love with him since the incident too. He remained her hero for what he had done and she increasingly looked at him differently. That was a difficult issue for Gavin and one that he sensed was coming to a head between them. He would need to deal with that soon he knew. He only hoped he could find a way to let her down gently. "I'll wash-up, mom. You go and put your feet up," he said, standing to gather up the dirty crockery. "Great idea!" exclaimed Christine. While the rest of the family trooped through to the sitting room, Gavin ran the water in the sink and began to wash the dishes. He used the time to reflect once more on what he had done. The values the Anderson's had imparted to him should have stopped him even considering taking a life. At the very least those values should be causing him to feel intense guilt at his crimes. Gavin knew that his 'parents' and 'sister' would be appalled if they knew what he was capable of. He searched for fear within himself, fear of being caught by the police, fear of the clan catching up with him, fear of letting his family down. It was strange, but it was almost as if there was two Gavin's. One Gavin was living a normal life with the Anderson's - good student, athlete - and the other Gavin had taught himself to have no fear and to remain focussed on finding his mother's killer. He somehow managed to feel detached from the killings, to compartmentalise his actions and stop them from affecting him. He had read the reports in the morning papers and still had the feelings of satisfaction and anticipation of the night before. Finishing the washing-up, he joined the family in time to catch the end of the news. "Here are the main points of today's news again: There have been two suspected 'tit-for-tat' gangland killings in Glasgow today; Government plans to increase education funding have been warmly welcomed by teacher's unions; and waiting times at Scotland's hospitals have reduced for the third quarter in succession. That's it from us here at BBC Scotland news. I'll see you again for our bulletin at 10 o'clock tonight. For now, good night from Gillian and me. Good night." ------- "What do we know?" asked Detective Inspector Drew MacIntosh. "Nothing much to go on, sir. Forensics will take a few more days to come through. Witnesses from the Portcullis are less than useless, gave us nothing. Word on the street is that today's hits were ordered by the Cullen clan in retaliation, but no names forthcoming as yet," answered one of the squad. "That about sums up the word on the streets, sir. Strange that there's so little about yesterday's hits, that's unusual," added another. "We'll solve these by good old fashioned police work, gentlemen. That means working the streets, covering all the angles, painstaking attention to detail," said MacIntosh. "Some people might think it's a good thing that the crims are killing each other off, I would rather lock them up. Now let's get to it!" ------- Another inane reality show followed the news and Christine Anderson took the opportunity to quiz Gavin once more about his plans for college. "Gavin, have you thought anymore about the offer from Southern Utah University?" she asked. Gavin frowned. "Mom, let's not go there again. I've already told you I plan to stay here at home and go to Strathclyde University. They have an excellent business school and they've made me an unconditional offer," he replied. "But University is supposed to be a life experience as well as a chance to gain a degree, Gavin. You would get far more out of being away from home and sampling a different culture. The sports programme could make all the difference to your swimming too," she argued. Gavin had just finished his high school exams, indeed had planned his attack on the Portcullis meticulously to avoid his study time. His results were not really in any doubt and he had indeed been accepted to study a business degree at Strathclyde University. His prowess at swimming had also brought an unusual offer though. American universities seemed to be increasingly spreading their nets wide to try and recruit potential athletic talent and Southern Utah University had offered Gavin an athletic scholarship to their business school. Gavin had travelled to Cedar City, Utah the summer before to take a tour and listen to the University's pitch. He had been impressed with the campus, but found the high percentage of Mormons in the area distinctly alien. The trip had however, led to the final piece of his plan to avenge his mother falling into place and for that he would always be grateful to Iron County, Utah. ------- Chapter 3: Where there's a will, there's a way The opportunity to do something about his obsession had arisen following a trip of a lifetime. Gavin thought back to the year before. 2006 Gavin was surprised and flattered when the recruiter from Southern Utah University contacted Glen and Christine with the possibility of a full athletic scholarship for him. Wendon B Braithwaite III arranged to visit their house to go through the details of what the University could offer. Gavin's head was spinning with the package that he was being offered, which included a three-week visit to see the campus and the surrounding area. The trip was all expenses paid and even if he decided not to take the offer, the prospect of a free holiday in the States was too good to miss. He flew from Prestwick Airport in the first week in July. Although the accommodation, food and travel arrangements were quite basic, for a boy from Glasgow who had never been outside of Scotland, the experience was fantastic. The bus from the airport drove along Interstate 15 and eventually reached Iron County. Gavin looked out of the window as they passed through Cedar City. The route was planned intentionally to show things at their best and although tired, the broad main street with its ornate streetlights and small trees impressed him. His tiredness left him when the bus pulled into the campus and he saw Southern Utah University for the first time. The sight of the mixed buildings - mostly three-storey - surrounded by lush green lawns was impressive enough. When that was all framed by the backdrop of what looked like a vivid red mesa in the distance, it really took his breath away. The scene immediately reminded him of many of the many Louis L'Amour books he had now read. This was the kind of land the Sacketts would have ridden over! The first week of his stay started with tours of the various buildings - from the original 'Old Main' building, dating back to 1898, through the Braithwaite Liberal Arts Centre, R Haze Hunter Conference Centre, the Sherratt Library and the J L Sorenson PE Building. There was also a tour of the Eccles Coliseum where the University played its home sports games and where the Utah Summer Games were held. Gavin wondered if Wendon B Braithwaite had any connection to the family that had funded the Arts Centre. Gavin used much of his meagre cash allowance to phone home every second night to share his experiences with his family. He was especially nice to his sister, sensing how badly she was missing him. ------- The first week was topped off by a trip through the nearby Bryce Canyon National Park. An air-conditioned bus took them along an almost twenty mile scenic route, with more than 10 viewpoints that overlooked the various natural amphitheatres that the park was famous for. The air-conditioning offset the temperatures that were in the mid thirties. The first stop was the park's visitor's centre - a large red building with a shape that Gavin thought was like an ornate, gambrel-roofed Dutch barn. There was a shining flagpole outside flying the Stars and Stripes and the guides couldn't do enough to talk-up the many sights in the park. He was impressed by the huge, natural sandstone amphitheatres of red, orange and white rock - the viewpoints on the rims of them were cooler as they were between 8,000-9,000 feet above sea level. The trip ended at the Bryce Canyon Lodge with its tiled roof looking almost green in the sunshine and he bought some souvenirs to take home. All in all Gavin thought it was an excellent end to the week. He had always loved his westerns and now he was in the middle of the country where the stories had been set. His idealised dreams of being a similar hero, an honest man who stood up to evil wherever he found it and acting as the agent of justice were being subtly re-inforced. ------- The second week had involved various meetings with faculty members - both in the sports programmes and in the business school that Gavin could be studying in. He joined a group for lunch on the Tuesday and got talking to a boy from Oregon who had also been offered a scholarship. "Hi, the name's James Wiggins," the boy said with a grin, extending his hand. For some reason, with a flash of precognition, Gavin decided to try to remain somewhat anonymous. "Gavin," he replied, shaking the other boy's hand. James didn't register the fact that Gavin hadn't given his surname. The two boys bumped into each other several times during the week and grew comfortable in each other's company. The University organised another scenic trip towards the end of week two. This time they were taken to the Zion National Park and Gavin found himself sitting beside James for the trip on another bus. The American was several inches taller than he was and also bigger across the shoulders and chest. James soon explained that he had grown so much due to the hard work he had to do everyday 'around the farm'. Gavin's first inkling that there was more to James than he was letting on came when he asked for more details about the farm. "So what kind of farm does your family run, James? Are you running stock or is it crops?" he asked, innocently. "Well it's not exactly my family's farm, it's more like a kinda large combine. We're kinda self-sufficient, if ya know what I mean, so we raise stock and grow crops too. "Anyway, listen, my Pa is always claiming that our family are descended from the Scots - the MacDonald clan or something. When I was a boy he was forever telling me stories about Bonnie Prince Charlie and how he was saved by Flora MacDonald. Tell me something about the old country?" James asked. Gavin got the distinct impression that the other boy had just changed the subject to avoid anymore talk about the 'combine' that was his home. The comment about them being self-sufficient had piqued Gavin's interest and he felt a small tingle of excitement. "If I'm right, I have to take this slowly or I'll scare him off for sure," he thought to himself. Gavin was more than happy describing what life was like growing up in Scotland. Perhaps because they were still relatively strangers, he even found himself telling James about how his mother had died eight years before. "Man, that sure does suck!" exclaimed Wiggins. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it. I've promised myself that I will track down the guy who killed her no matter how long it takes," Gavin replied. "Jeez! Are you gonna shoot the fucker?" James asked. "Now where in the hell would I get my hands on a gun in the UK? If I was William Tell Sackett that's just what I'd do, but we're a wee bit different over there, man, we don't have guns everywhere like you guys seem to," Gavin answered. "Hey! A Louis L'Amour fan, cool! So, what are you gonna do? Stick the bastard?" "I don't know how I'm gonna do it yet. I just know that I will track him down and then he's mine," Gavin said. The bus pulled into the Zion National Park and they had their first sight of Horse Ranch Mountain. At nearly 9,000 feet high it was a mixture of red and white streaked cliffs, rising to a peak coloured grey-green and white. The bus stopped outside the Temple of Sinawava, apparently a Paiute god of the Coyote, and they then took a foot trail that led to the Zion Narrows. Gavin felt this was another impressive spectacle - red sandstone cliffs that rose to a thousand feet high and in the bright sunshine they shone like burnished copper. Once more he romanticised about what he was seeing and could almost imagine the hard men who dispensed their own brand of summary frontier justice. He envisioned himself amongst them. The rest of the day was spent just lazily sightseeing through the park and eating at the concessions. The talk between Gavin and James turned to lighter stuff like what sports they were interested in and what they planned to major in when they attended University. ------- The third week was even more relaxed, with most of it given over to free time. The University did take them to a Shakespeare play on the Monday night. The play was staged on campus in the Adams outdoor Theatre. The Adams structure was clearly based on the original Globe theatre in London. They were due to leave on Friday morning and on Wednesday a final trip had been planned for them. This was the longest yet and involved a ride over into neighbouring Arizona to see the Grand Canyon. Gavin was blown away by the scale of the canyon and the sheer beauty of the rock formations. He knew the sights would stay with him for the rest of his life and he daydreamed about what life must have been like in the old West. The potential Southern Utah students had been left to wander around on their own and teenage boys being teenage boys, James and Gavin had ducked under the safety barriers to get a closer look over the rim of the canyon. To Gavin, things happened in slow motion. One second James was standing on the edge peering down at the floor of the canyon and the next his arms were wind-milling, as the soft sandstone under his feet crumbled and gave way and he slipped over the edge. Gavin acted instinctively and with the incredible speed his martial arts training had given him. He reached out and grabbed hold of one of James' arms as the other boy fell. Gavin found himself hanging onto James, now down on his own knees, perilously close to the rim. James' eyes were as big as saucers as they locked onto Gavin's, the fear obvious. "Hang on, man, hang on!" Gavin urged. The years of swimming and working out at the dojo had given Gavin immense strength in his arms, shoulders and legs. At that moment it felt as if the larger boy's weight was going to pull both his arms out of their sockets, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the pain. Slowly he began to push himself up off of his knees, straining his powerful thigh muscles to drive himself upwards inch by painful inch. Somehow James managed to gain a foothold and the strain on Gavin lessened immediately. He was able to quickly pull the American back up over the edge and they both fell onto the red rock, panting for breath. It took a few minutes before either of them could speak. "Jeez, man. Fuck! Oh sweet Jesus, that was close!" James moaned. Gavin laughed. "You know, you're stronger than you look, man. Thanks," James added. Gavin laughed again and slapped James on the shoulder. Teenagers find it difficult at times to fully express themselves, but the look that had passed between them when Gavin was pulling him up had said everything that needed to be said. The trip back to the campus was made in relative silence, as both boys tried to come to terms with what had almost happened. ------- James suggested that they go out into Cedar City on their last night. The two had formed the kind of bond that sharing a near death situation can sometimes create. James found them a bar almost as soon as they stepped down from the bus that had taken them into town. Gavin wasn't sure at first, he didn't tend to drink alcohol at home - he was after all only sixteen. James insisted that the least he could do for his good Scots buddy was buy him a few beers before he returned to the UK. Gavin knew it would be rude to refuse and he soon found himself with an ice-cold bottle of Bud. "So, do you think you're gonna come here to University, Gavin?" James asked. "I haven't made my mind up yet," he replied and quickly looked round to see if anyone could hear him. "I'm kinda put off by all these Mormons to be honest. I mean they've all been really nice and I can't fault them for that, but they just seem too intense about their beliefs. It makes me uncomfortable to tell you the truth," he added. James nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know what you mean. They are kind of a full-on at times aren't they?" After two more beers each Gavin felt the time had come to try and explore the thing that had sparked his interest the week before. "Hey, Jamie. I've told you what it's like growing up in Scotland. Tell me a little about life on the farm in Oregon?" he asked. James hesitated for a moment and then seemed to come to a decision. "Well seeing as how we're good friends and all, I guess I can tell you a little. "When I said the farm was more like a combine and that we were self-sufficient, I didn't tell you the whole story. My family is part of a survivalist group. We've got over twenty families living in our valley and we pretty much grow crops, raise stock or make everything that we need to get by," James said. This was what Gavin had suspected when James had let slip the few hints the week before. He had read a little about survivalists and the glimmer of an idea was beginning to form in his head. The need to avenge his mother had grown and grown over the years. He had nurtured it until, unbeknown to Gavin, it had become an obsession. Now he was wondering if his new friend might not somehow provide him with a way of bringing his obsession a little closer to reality. From what he had seen of America guns were pretty much everywhere. From what he had read about survivalists he was sure that guns would be a big part of James' life. As quickly as the idea formed however, Gavin dismissed it. He knew there was no way he could ever get a gun through an airport and onto a plane. James noticed that Gavin had gone quiet momentarily and guessed that his admission that he was a survivalist was worrying the other boy. "Hey don't let it worry you! We're not all wierdos you know. I'm not gonna pull my gun and whack you buddy," he said. Gavin shook himself. "Don't be daft. You being a survivalist doesn't bother me in the least. In fact, I was wondering if it might be an opportunity for me. You heard me talking the other night. I will find the guy who killed my mom. You're immediate reaction was to ask if I was gonna shoot the bastard. Well, to be honest, I was wondering if there was some way you being a survivalist would help me get a gun," Gavin admitted. It was James' turn to fall silent. He knew that he probably owed Gavin his life after the incident the day before at the Grand Canyon and getting his new buddy a gun wasn't a big deal as far as he was concerned. "You know, I would be more than happy to get you a gun, especially since I know why you want it. The only problem is I'd have to go to Oregon to get it and you fly back to Scotland tomorrow," James said. "I know. I'd never get it through airport security anyway. It was a stupid idea," Gavin replied. A couple of girls from their group entered the bar and spotted them. Gavin had quickly earned a reputation amongst the girls for being an absolute gentleman. Over the three weeks he had gone out of his way to be polite and to treat them with the utmost respect. The American girls were taken with his manners and with his cute Scots accent. The fact that he was quick with his compliments didn't do any harm either. As the girls made their way over to the boys, the conversation changed between them to much lighter topics and the boys went over their experience of the past three weeks. Gavin didn't know it, but he had planted a seed in James Wiggin's head and the other boy was already subconsciously trying to figure out how to give Gavin what he wanted. The next day the two boys shook hands and joked as they said their farewells. Gavin felt something pressed into his hand and looked down to see a scrap of paper. He didn't open it at once, but instead slipped it into his pocket. His bags were stowed on the bus and he gave James one final wave as he climbed aboard and the bus headed for the Interstate. Once out of sight, he pulled the piece of paper from his pocket and opened it up. He smiled when he saw that James had written down his e-mail address. Gavin thought it would be fun to keep in touch with his new American friend. ------- Two weeks after returning home, Gavin had used an Internet café in Glasgow to set up a phoney Yahoo e-mail account. He e-mailed James to ask him how things were back on 'the farm'. He also shared news about what had been going on in his life since his return and finished by telling James that he had definitely decided not to attend Southern Utah University. After setting up the e-mail account, Gavin made a point of checking it once a week, always using an Internet café rather than his home computer. He still held out a faint hope that his friendship with James might somehow lead to him getting his hands on a weapon, hence the caution. He was still surprised however, when a cryptic message arrived from James, asking him to send details of a safe, but accessible public drop-off point for a special gift he had secured for Gavin. When Gavin had read that message his pulse had raced. A 'special gift' could only mean one thing he thought and now that his hope was becoming a reality he was suddenly very nervous about being caught. It took Gavin two days to come up with what he thought was the perfect drop-off point and he carefully described it in an e-mail to James. The following week he received a reply from James that simply had a date - 9th September. He checked and found that the 9th was a Sunday and he had over four weeks to wait. The weeks seemed to pass very slowly, but eventually the 9th of September arrived. The Anderson's sensed that their was something making Gavin nervous that Sunday morning, but he brushed off their concerns, telling them that he just needed to burn off some energy. That was a perfect excuse to then announce he was going out for a run. Changing into a T-shirt and running shorts, Gavin slung a small knapsack over his shoulders and set out for a jog. The run into Glasgow City centre was only three miles and he set himself a steady pace so as not to tire himself too much. Half an hour later he turned into Kelvingrove Park and circled the Art Gallery and Museum. His nerves really started to play up as he approached the secluded area of the park he had described to James and his eyes flitted round the surrounding area, looking for anything or anyone looking out of place. There was a single park bench set in a small clearing. What was different about this bench was that it sat close to a tree that had a nesting box for wild birds attached to it. Gavin had sat on the bench simply enjoying the relaxed pace of the park on a number of occasions and he had noticed the bird box. He ran past the bench now and again swept the area looking for trouble. When he was satisfied that things looked safe, he doubled back. He quickly hoisted himself up into the tree's branches and along to where the bird box was attached to the trunk. Gavin pulled the top of the box open and his heart raced when he saw that there was a package stuffed inside. He quickly pulled it out and stashed it in his bag before dropping back down onto the grass and immediately began jogging once more. The run back home was a trial. His nerves made his legs feel weak and Gavin struggled to keep up his steady pace. In the end the return journey took almost ten minutes longer than it had taken to run into the city. He didn't stop downstairs, but instead shouted that he was going to take a shower. Once inside his bedroom he dumped the bag on his bed and reached inside for the package. He was surprised at how heavy it was, but when he unwrapped the oily cloth he found a handgun and a box of ammunition. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" he whispered to himself. By sheer luck he realised he now had the means to take care of his mother's killer once he had tracked him down. He had no idea how James had managed to arrange the gun for him, but he knew his obsession was a major step closer to being realised. ------- Gavin spent the next few days fretting about what to do next. He realised that he would need to practice with the gun to gain some idea of whether he was any good with it or not. It would be foolish in the extreme to put himself in a situation where he had to use it only to find he couldn't hit a barn door. He was also worried about the amount of ammunition he had - it would need to be used sparingly to keep as much as possible for using in anger. He eventually came up with a plan. One of the activities he had undertaken at school was caving at a site in Fife. He gathered three powerful torches from around the house and caught an express bus from Glasgow's Buchanan Street Bus Station to Dunfermline. He had to walk for four miles from Dunfermline Town centre to the entrance to the caves and wasted no time in slipping inside. Once he estimated he had travelled far enough into the caves to make sure the noise of the gun wouldn't be heard, he set up all three of the torches he had brought with him. He also unfolded and set up a cardboard target he had made and then prepared himself to fire the gun for the first time. Gavin had some advantages when it came to shooting. He had very strong arms, particularly his wrists. His martial arts leant him the ability to maintain a rock solid stance and his breathing was always controlled. His hand/eye coordination was also excellent. For the first shot he tried to moderate his breathing and took his time raising the gun and squeezing off the round. He was surprised to see the target, fifteen feet away, jerk as the bullet passed through it. Walking over to check, he saw a neat hole a few inches high and to the right of the centre of the target. The kick from the gun had surprised him and he decided to try another shot, this time knowing what to expect. The next two attempts had been almost dead centre in the target and with a shock he realised he was a natural shot. He used up three more of his precious rounds of ammunition to confirm that his first efforts hadn't been flukes and then smiled as he realised he wouldn't have to use up as much in practising as he had first thought. "Okay, I know now that I can do it. I just need to find the right target," he thought. ------- Gavin sat in his room, poring over the old newspaper cuttings he had kept from the time of his mother's death. He had looked at them over and over in the past nine years, using them to keep the flame of his obsession burning brightly. For some reason he hadn't tried to follow any of the leads that might exist in the articles before now. He thought about that now and came to the conclusion that his subconscious hadn't wanted to find the man he was after until after he had come up with a way of dealing with him. Now with the gun and the confidence he could use it, he didn't waste any more time in harnessing the power of the Internet in trying to establish some leads. The most important angle that was repeated in most of the clippings was the mention of a Glasgow gang called the Cullen clan, as somehow being connected to the killing. Two hours of searching and reading obscure hits on google gave him something to work with. The next few weeks were spent in hanging around places where he hoped to find and watch current members of the Cullen clan and he was amazed at just how easy it had been to identify the man he was after. Of course Stevie Miller wasn't difficult to pick out in a crowd with his grotesque facial scars. Gavin's first sight of him left him feeling dizzy and nauseous. It had taken all of his will to make himself follow the man from Cullen's house and down the street to a nearby pub. His biggest concern was that his target would get into a vehicle and leave him unable to follow. When the scarred man left the pub several hours later with two other men, Gavin was thankful he did so on foot. He followed until they entered a semi-detached house. He watched from across the street as lights came on in the house and satisfied himself that this was where the man he had thought about killing for eight years, lived. He knew he would have to come up with a better plan His answer had come in persuading his friend, Ronnie to let him borrow his scooter. Driving it without a license, he was able to tail the man off and on over the next few weeks. He saw that a pattern emerged. Whenever the man was on the move he had two others with him. When he stopped off at the Portcullis bar one of his minders left, meaning there was only two of them. Gavin suspected that the reason for this was that there was some additional support inside the pub, but he couldn't risk entering the pub at his age to find out. Casual questioning of some of the local teenagers who were hanging around told him what the man was doing in the pub every week and also gave him something else to help turn the heat of his obsession up a notch or two. He learned the man's name was Stevie 'the Joker' Miller. His target had a name and Gavin's focus was now about how and when he was going to take his vengeance and hopefully lessen the guilt he had been carrying all these years. ------- Chapter 4 2007 Fraser Gilchrist was troubled. None of the usual narcs could tell him anything about who had been behind the shootings at the Portcullis. Having spoken to a few of the pensioners who had witnessed events, there was also something not quite right about the hit. The details he had extracted from the witnesses just didn't make sense. He had spoken to four of them - four pensioners who were scared for their lives, as they knew who he was - and they had all told roughly the same story. The killer had been wearing a ski mask. The killer hadn't said a single word from the moment he entered the pub to the moment he walked calmly out again. The killer had shared out Stevie Miller's 'cash takings' with the pensioners rather than taking them for himself. At his suggestion the clan had carefully planted their own men inside the Glasgow gangs that were their biggest rivals. Fraser had made contact with each of these men and the message he got back in every case was that the other Glasgow gangs had not been involved in the attack. It would come as no surprise to anyone that the Cullen clan also had a number of policemen on their payroll and Fraser's last calls had gone out to them. It was clear that Strathclyde police had no clues as to the identity of the killer either. To say this was unusual would be a massive understatement. In a world where reputations were everything, a world inhabited by men who by their very nature were arrogant and boastful, there was always some word on the streets as to who was behind the latest big event. The absence of any gossip at all was what was troubling Fraser. Reviewing what he knew, Gilchrist was able to rule out robbery as a motive - the killer hadn't taken the cash. Neither did it seem the hit was aimed at sending a message - the killer hadn't said a word, there was no threat. He was at a loss to explain the reason for the killings other than there could have been some personal motive involved. Miller certainly rubbed lots of people up the wrong way; Fraser had first hand experience of that. But had he done something bad enough to warrant someone taking him out? That was easy to believe. Fraser knew Rab Cullen wasn't going to be happy that there were no clues to the identity of the gunman. He would also need to impress upon his boss the fact that the other clans were nervous and preparing themselves for war after the two hits carried out earlier that day. His informants had told him that the other gangs weren't looking for a battle with Cullen and things wouldn't kick off if no further attacks were carried out. Things were balanced on a knife-edge however; one more killing could send things spiralling out of control. ------- DI MacIntosh was growing increasingly frustrated. In his experience the average criminal wasn't that bright and they made stupid mistakes that led to their arrest. Neither were the so-called Glasgow hard men known for being able to keep their mouths shut. An example of how things normally played out was that within hours of the two killings that day he had tip-offs on who was behind them. The same wasn't the case with the Portcullis pub shootings and that was unusual. He had forty officers - detectives and uniformed men - out working the streets and still he had nothing. He suspected that forensics would come up with little to help him either, the witnesses had all described a very clean hit. Some of what he knew also pointed to some effective planning for the killings. Marks on the fire exit door indicated that it had been wedged shut from the outside to prevent escape that way. The killer seemed to get away from the scene without anyone seeing him - yet it had been broad daylight. The time picked for the attack was one guaranteed to mean there were few people in the pub. Two of the witnesses had also let slip that the gunman had emptied the loan shark's money out onto the tables before he left. "Why didn't he take the money? MacIntosh asked himself. His network of informants all suggested that there was no link to any of the other Glasgow gangs, there was no hint of this being the start of a turf war. The two killings today were retaliation, as if the first killings had been gang related, but his informants all indicated the pub shootings weren't. He had a bad feeling about this one. The day to day business of dealing with Glasgow's criminal gangs was hard enough without some rogue element turning up the heat. Drew could only hope that effective police work would turn something up sooner rather than later. "Always look for the motive, that's the number one rule in investigation. If it's not money, it's not power or influence then it could be personal," he thought to himself. MacIntosh didn't know it, but he had just come to the same conclusion as Fraser Gilchrist. What he didn't know was that a trawl through crimes known to have involved Stevie Miller, in the hope of finding somebody out for revenge, wouldn't lead him to the killer. No one had been arrested for the murder of Nora MacSween - so DI MacIntosh wouldn't link that crime to Miller and there was no trail to Gavin. ------- Fiona sat in the stands at Edinburgh's Meadowbank Olympic pool with her mother and father, nervously anticipating Gavin's race. He was down to compete in a 200m backstroke event and she had a particular reason for naming this event her favourite. Ever since the day Gavin had come to her rescue she had tried to make a point of coming to support him at the major swimming meetings he competed in. She could still vividly recall the first time she had accompanied her parents, at first just there to support her new hero. Her outlook changed after that very first meeting. Even aged thirteen, Gavin had looked incredible. Fiona had never really taken notice of him around the house, but seeing him in his racing trunks was stunning. The hours of swimming and working out at the dojo had broadened his shoulders and layered muscle on top of muscle. He stood at 5'8" then (5'11" now) and Fiona had shivered at just how buff he looked. When she had first seen Gavin perform in the backstroke she had squeezed her thighs together, a raw tingle of excitement shooting through her. The starting position for this stroke involved the swimmers grabbing hold of the starting platform and when the gun went off, throwing themselves backwards in a dive. The effect was to show off Gavin's incredible washboard stomach muscles under tension and Fiona was immediately hooked. Gavin might look quite plain with his brown hair; average height and the baggy clothes he wore also disguised his athletic build. Up until she had watched him at the swimming meetings she had thought his only really outstanding feature was his blue eyes. Once she had the opportunity to take in his almost naked, athletic body and the impressive package encased inside his tight speedos, she quickly revised her opinion. As a result her hero worship had morphed firstly into a young girl's crush and in the past few years into a deep and abiding love for her 'brother'. For once she was secretly pleased that Gavin wasn't her real brother, as in her own mind that made him fair game for a relationship with her. Her frustration had been growing however, as the more she tried to throw herself at him, the more she flaunted her body and sexuality, the more he smiled and acted the perfect brother. Fiona was beginning to wonder if he would ever notice her as a woman. She had even begun to wonder if Gavin might be gay. To her knowledge he had never had a girlfriend, but her constant fantasies about him wouldn't allow her to think that for long. She focussed her attention back on the pool as the race looked like it was about to start. Fiona watched Gavin grab onto the starting bar and coil his body tightly, ready for the starting pistol. Her eyes took in the bunched muscles on his neck and across his shoulders and down his sides. Her anticipation built as she waited for the dive. The gun fired and Gavin's reaction made her breath catch in her throat. The raw power was incredible and he looked like a sleek sea creature as he thrust explosively backwards and entered smoothly into his stroke. She had focussed on his tensed muscles and as always it had sent a stab of excitement directly to the juncture of her thighs. She sighed and silently promised herself that she would redouble her efforts to get her brother to notice her. ------- One of the beauties of having finished sitting all of your exams was that there was an opportunity to be more relaxed about going into school for the final few weeks of term. Gavin took advantage of that to stay in bed listening to his parents and sister getting themselves up and out of the house. He was still a little tired from the swimming meet the day before. Once he was satisfied he had the house to himself; he took a shower and went downstairs to have some cereal. He didn't even realise what he was doing until he blinked and looked down to see the Browning in his hands. Somehow he had managed to enter the garage and remove it from its hiding place without conscious thought. He turned the gun over in his hands, feeling its weight and a smile came to his lips. The smile signified that his active brain had at last managed to identify why he had the feeling of anticipation as well as satisfaction after the killings in the pub. "I'm going to do it again," he thought to himself. The vivid details of what had happened inside the Portcullis ran through his brain again now. He remembered how alert he had been, how effortless everything seemed to be. His movement had been fluid and he had a sense of being invincible. It was as if his body had been charged up with energy, fuelled by the belief that he was in the right. He was doing good work; he was removing the scum that preyed on society's weak and helpless. He was there to make sure they didn't harm anyone else. He was doing what the police and the courts couldn't do because they had their hands tied behind their backs. He was in those moments a frontier gunman sticking up for the good people against the bad. "I'm going to do it again! There are other people out there who need me to stick up for them, to defend them against the evil that runs unchecked in our streets. It's not just me who has lost a mother; others have lost loved ones to the murderers, the drug pushers. There are countless others out there living in fear with no one to fight for them. Yes, I do believe I'm going to do it again." The smile stayed on Gavin's lips as he packed the gun back into its hiding place. He knew this was a startling decision he had come to, but somehow it just felt right and he had never felt so at peace with himself as he did at that moment. Making his way back into the house, he sat at the breakfast bar and began to flick through the morning newspaper. The stories being reported all seemed to be bad news - death, tragedy, and crime seemed to be what the tabloids believed sold copies. If he needed anything to confirm what he had been thinking in the garage moments before, there was ample re-inforcement on virtually every page he read. There were reports of court cases, which described brutal killings, drug and alcohol fuelled violence, scams and fraud and there was a common thread running through them. In each case there was an innocent victim and an innocent victim's family. The paper seemed to take equal delight in highlighting the evil of the criminals and the suffering, the grief, the despair felt by those affected. Gavin stopped on page 4 and read the report on heightened tension amongst the Glasgow gangs following the Portcullis killings and the subsequent 'tit-for-tat' shootings that had taken place. ... there is no doubt about it; Glasgow's gangland is on the verge of exploding. Criminal sources have told me that all it will take is one more killing to spark the biggest turf war Glasgow has ever seen. Illegal weapons are everywhere and the police can do nothing to control what's going on. I met one gang member who told me that everyone was on alert. "We're tooled up and ready," he said, "if anyone wants to start something, we're gonna finish it." He opened his jacket and I saw with my own eyes the gun that he had concealed there. The look in his eyes was enough to convince me that he meant every word he said... A story on the opposite page also caught his eye. It was accompanied by a picture of a woman at a graveside. She was dressed in black and the cameraman had caught the haunted look on her face. ... the sky has fallen in on twenty-two year old Sarah Thomson's world. Her three-year old daughter, Kirsty, was run over and killed by drug crazed William Lorimer as he drove round Glasgow peddling heroin on the streets. At Glasgow's High Court today, Lorimer was released on police bail pending reports from his drug rehabilitation counsellor. The only words Sarah Thomson could manage to say were "Where's the justice in that? He took my wee angel from me. Why should he be allowed to live?" Lorimer, of Cranhill Street, Glasgow has a string of previous crimes to his name... Gavin's face grew grim. He recognised the graveyard shown in the photo and he was almost moved to tears by the woman's heartfelt plea for justice. Gavin decided that the next few days were going to be busy. He would need to think about what he was going to do and plan effectively. There was no point in going off half-cocked, this needed to be done right or he would be asking to be caught. ------- Two days later Gavin stayed out of school again. He had spent enough time following people in the Cullen clan in the past few months, that he needed little additional preparation to mount another attack against them. If the media coverage was to be believed, one more killing would set the Glasgow gangs at each other's throats and Gavin planned to give them a little push. He was crouched down behind a row of three waste bins outside a house on Glasgow's Southside. Waiting. He knew the man who lived in this house normally returned around 11pm most nights, he wasn't a late bird. Gavin also knew that he normally had two minders with him, which suggested he was somebody of rank within the clan. Most of the day had been spent just studying the house, its garden and the surrounding area. Gavin was well aware of just how good modern forensics were and he was keen to avoid leaving any clues for the police to find. He mentally ran through exactly how he was going to approach the house, where he was going to wait and just how he was going to carry out the hit. Car headlights flooded the driveway and momentarily blinded Gavin in his hiding place. He closed his eyes quickly, squeezing them shut in an attempt to try and get his night vision back as quickly as possible. The headlights were turned off and he heard the car doors opening. Pulling down his ski mask, Gavin stood up and stepped forward purposefully. As he had suspected there were three men. To give them their due, two of the men reacted quickly as soon as Gavin stood up, clearly reaching for weapons. The third man seemed frozen to the spot. Gavin's movement now was a blur. His right hand rose, the gun firing as soon as he had acquired his first target. He didn't waste any time, swinging his body slightly to the left to line up on the second man who was frantically reaching for a gun. Gavin fired twice in succession. The first slug creased the man's arm where it crossed over his chest, as he tried to rip his gun from his waistband. It carried on and into his chest and was then joined by the second round, which impacted just slightly to the left of the first. Both of the potential gunmen were down within two seconds. The third man was still rooted to the spot and it was perhaps this that did most to save him. For some reason Gavin didn't fire again, instead he walked forward carefully, avoiding the spots of blood that were already on the ground. Once again he was feeling the sense of invincibility he had before, he was righteous and he could do no wrong! The adrenaline was coursing through him and his body was using it with incredible efficiency to increase his speed, awareness and reactions. He pulled a plastic tie from his pocket and pulled the remaining man's arms behind his back, securing them firmly before pushing him onto his knees. Once he had the last threat secure, Gavin turned to remedy his first mistake so far. He had used Stevie Miller's .38 special instead of the Browning and hadn't factored in the reduced kick from the smaller calibre gun. As a result his first shot had hit much lower than he had intended and his first victim was rolling around on the ground, moaning, with a bullet in his stomach. He had been quick enough to make the mental adjustment needed before he had fired at his second target, but the inaccurate first shot needed remedial action. On his knees, Fraser Gilchrist was petrified and he watched as the masked man calmly walked over to Jamie Mulloy and fired a single round into his head. Mulloy twitched and then his body went slack. Fraser was certain he was next and he closed his eyes, surprisingly he offered up a silent prayer. With his eyes closed he didn't see the blow coming and the .38 special clubbed him at the base of the skull and he collapsed, unconscious. Without the use of his arms to cushion the blow, his face smashed into the concrete paving and blood seeped from his nose. Gavin dropped the smaller gun at the scene and walked down the driveway and into the street. He turned left and calmly walked away. Three streets over, he retrieved Ronnie's scooter from the ASDA/walmart car park and rode towards his next target. As he rode he was experiencing the euphoric feeling he had after the first hit. Good had scored another victory over evil. ------- For the past two nights Gavin had staked out Cranhill Street, watching the comings and goings at Willie Lorimer's house. Traffic to the tenement had been very light and it was clear that Willie had few friends. He parked the scooter at the end of the road and made his way on foot along the street, pulling on his ski mask as he reached the entrance to the tenement. Gavin thought Lorimer made his job that much easier by having a nameplate above the letterbox on the door of his ground floor flat. That feeling changed when he looked at the door and for once found that he hadn't done enough planning. In common with many others who dealt drugs, Lorimer's front door was of re-inforced steel to slow down any attempt by the police to break it down. The vital few moments this delay could cause allowed the dealers to flush their drugs down the toilet in the hope of avoiding arrest. Gavin knew that the door wouldn't be easy to breech. Without thinking he dropped his hand to the door handle and was amazed when it opened easily. "Jesus, he must be out of his skull on something or other," Gavin thought to himself as he carefully and quietly entered the flat. The stench of the place assaulted his nostrils immediately - a smell of human waste, dampness and decay. Gavin forced himself to ignore it and to concentrate on where he was putting his feet. Walking up the hallway, he checked out each room to make sure it was clear. He found nothing until he reached the sitting room and there sat/lay Willie Lorimer. Gavin's guess at the door proved to be true. By the looks of Lorimer he had used a large dose of the drugs that he normally sold to others and he was completely spaced out. Gavin didn't waste any time. He lifted a cushion and placed it over Lorimer's face then pressed the barrel of the browning up against it and pulled the trigger. Dropping the cushion, he re-traced his steps down the hallway and closed the door behind him. Cranhill Street was deserted and Gavin strolled back to the scooter. Killing this man filled him with an even better feeling. Knowing that he had been peddling misery throughout Glasgow, destroying young people and their families, forcing people to rob and steal to feed their habit was reason enough for him to die. The fact that he had also killed a three-year old girl was too much and Gavin's reward was an incredible high at having avenged the young girl and all the others. He had one last trip to make before he could go home for a well-earned sleep. ------- DI Drew MacIntosh hadn't slept for over forty hours and it showed. He stood at the gates of the cemetery watching the forensic experts in their white coveralls. They were setting up tents to preserve the scene they were investigating. One of the detectives in attendance spotted MacIntosh and walked over to fill him in. "What have we got, Kenny?" Drew asked. "The mother came to visit the little girl's grave this morning. She found something out of the ordinary and called it in immediately," the detective replied. "Don't waste my time, Kenny. What did she find?" MacIntosh growled, his lack of sleep shortening his temper. "See for yourself, sir," Drew walked over to the spot where the tent was being set up round a small grave. In the centre of the grave lay a single red rose. Under the rose was a small, clear plastic wallet that contained a slip of paper. A message was typed on the paper and Drew read it. Rest in peace wee angel. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, but the bad man is gone forever. MacIntosh's head snapped up. "Kenny!" "What is it, sir?" the detective asked. "Lorimer! Has anybody checked on Lorimer?" Drew barked. Only then did the significance of the message sink in for the other policeman and his face turned pale. ------- Gavin and Glen were watching the TV news, waiting for Christine to finish preparing dinner. Gavin had slept an uninterrupted sleep after getting home late the night before. His conscience remained untroubled and he was able to watch the description of his nocturnal activities without any visible reaction. ... Gillian, this latest gangland execution seems to have been the signal for all out warfare between the Glasgow gangs. This afternoon there have been three incidents involving firearms that have left two men dead, one an innocent member of the public, and four others wounded and in hospital. Glasgow is a very tense city tonight and a police spokesman is advising the public to be on alert... Gavin heard the comment about an innocent victim and for the first time felt a twinge of guilt inside. His face didn't show it, but he was furious with himself for not factoring in the possibility of this happening. ... Alex, we reported the death of William Lorimer earlier. He was the man who is believed to have caused the death of three-year old Kirsty Thomson. I believe you have an update on things for us? Yes, Gillian. Tonight, Strathclyde police have released details of a note left on Kirsty's grave that would seem to indicate that the murder of William Lorimer was a direct response to what he had been accused of. I am reliably informed that a single red rose was left at the grave with a note indicating that Lorimer was dead. In a further development, lawyers for Sarah Anderson have released a statement. In it Sarah says she has no knowledge of who is responsible for the death of William Lorimer. She goes on to say that she wants to thank whoever has done this and for the message that was left for her daughter. She says that she now feels that justice has indeed been done. Gavin felt his heart swell with pride at the reporting of the mother's words of thanks. It was just as he had thought - there were people out there who were desperate for justice. He realised he wanted to be the one to give them that justice and that made him feel really good about himself and what he was doing. ------- Chapter 5: Connections Fraser felt the pain in his head before he came fully awake. His eyes blinked open, but quickly snapped shut again to block out the harsh bright light, which was reflecting off of the sterile white walls. The confusion in his pounding head began to clear and the memory of the masked gunman came back to him. Lying there, he mentally took stock. He flexed his arms and legs, searching for any pains that might indicate where he had been shot. Nothing other than his head seemed to feel out of sorts and he assumed that he had somehow miraculously survived a gunshot there. The white walls he had glimpsed suggested he was in hospital. The monitors he was hooked up to must have given the nearby nurse an indication that he was awake because she came over to the bed and began to fuss over him. Fraser risked opening his eyes a fraction to identify the source of the noises he was hearing. He took in the sight of the young nurse and had his confirmation that he was indeed in a hospital. Other than the headache, he was surprised that he seemed to be feeling relatively okay. He tried to smile at the nurse. "Where am I?" he croaked. "You're in the Victoria Infirmary," she replied cheerfully. "How bad is the gunshot wound?" Fraser managed to get out. He was surprised when the nurse actually laughed. "You haven't been shot, Mr Gilchrist, just a nasty blow on the back of you're head. You might be suffering a low-grade concussion and we'll need to do some tests before we let the police see you. Now, try and rest and I'll get Mr Cameron the consultant to come and see you," the nurse replied. Fraser let his eyes close once more and he tried to make sense of what the nurse had told him. Why had the gunman killed Mulloy and Charlie Haining, but left him alive? That just didn't make sense. He knew he would need to try and go over events to come up with a story to tell the police when they were eventually allowed to interview him. One thing was clear to Fraser, the gunman had to be the same one who had carried out the hit at the Portcullis. Having seen the man in action for himself all the comments made by the witnesses had come to life. The ski mask, the fact that not a word had been said, and the speed with which the man moved and killed were all as the pensioners had described. There had been an incredible economy in his movements and they had been fluid, almost as if he was a skilled dancer. The one thing the pensioners hadn't described, but which Fraser would now never forget, was the intensity of the blue eyes framed by the black ski mask. It had been that more than anything else that had caused Fraser to freeze. "Now then, Mr Gilchrist. How are we feeling?" he heard the consultant ask. ------- The scene at Stewart Street police station was chaotic. Additional detectives had been drafted in from the neighbouring Lothian and Borders police force to help with the wave of shootings that had to be investigated. DI MacIntosh had managed to snatch a few hours sleep in the cot in his office, but he still looked like death warmed up. Sitting with a large mug of coffee in front of him, he was looking through several forensic reports that had been delivered while he had been sleeping. Five rounds had been recovered from the Portcullis shootings. Two of the bullets had fragmented and were of less use than the other three, but there was enough to confirm that the firearm used had been a 9mm weapon, probably the pretty common Browning the report guessed. The three rounds that were in better condition were confirmed as all having come from the same gun. It was likely that all five had. The fact that the crime scene had been a pub meant the forensics team was unable to offer even the slightest hint of the gunman's DNA. The floor was literally covered in skin and hair particles but these were from hundreds of different people and it would take months to run tests on all the material gathered. The report went on to confirm his guess about the fire exit door having been wedged shut. Traces of rubber had been recovered from the underside of the doors, but there was nothing special about it that could help identify where it has come from. The only other helpful piece of information forensics and the coroner had come up with was an estimate of the gunman's height based on the angle of the entry wounds on the victims and measurements of where the shots had been fired from. The report suggested the gunman was somewhere in the region of 5'11" to 6'0". "Well that tends to rule out any connection between the pub hit and last nights shootings in the Southside," Drew thought to himself. The .38 special had been recovered at the scene outside Fraser Gilchrist's house and MacIntosh now had the report that indicated the masked gunman in the Portcullis had used a 9mm weapon. He knew it wasn't impossible that the gunman had used different weapons, but they tended to be creatures of habit so it was unlikely. ------- Gavin lay in his bed re-playing the events of the night before. He was pleased overall with his performance, but vowed to himself never to make the same mistake when firing another gun again. He had refrained from taking the guns from the two men he had shot for precisely that reason. He was also puzzling over why he hadn't simply shot the third man. There was no obvious reason other than the fact that the other two had immediately reached for their guns while the third man had stood frozen. He knew that wasn't the reason however, there was something else nagging away at the back of his head. He was particularly pleased at having been able to rid the world of Willie Lorimer. The rose and the message on the baby's grave were a nice touch he thought and not something that would give anyone any clues as to his identity. His reasons for doing it were partly to send a message to the grieving mother, but also to all the others who were suffering out there - he wanted them all to know that someone was taking up the fight on their behalf. One thing was causing him some concern. The fact that he felt no guilt, no remorse despite having already killed six men, was a worry. How could it be that he felt nothing? Set against that however, he was comforted by the fact that he had felt deeply the loss of little Kirsty - so he wasn't becoming heartless or emotionless. The fact was that all of senses were if anything at super alert. He had never felt so sensitive, so alive before to what was around him. Gavin sighed, the smile playing on his face was a physical sign that overall he still felt good about himself and what he was doing. "I definitely need to pull back a bit though. Too much, too soon and I'm going to get caught. I need to pick the fights and plan well in advance if I'm going to do any lasting good. Oh well, I guess it's time to get up for school," he thought. ------- Fiona had spent most of the money she had been saving on the outfit she was wearing; banking it would at last get Gavin's attention. "If this doesn't work, nothing will!" she thought to herself. She twirled round on the spot in front of the full-length mirrored doors of her built-in wardrobe. The short white, pleated skirt she wore flared and rose outward and upward, allowing a glimpse of the plain white silk panties she had on underneath. Above the skirt she sported a half-length white cotton vest that left her sculpted stomach exposed. Fiona played tennis and the hours she spent on the court each week helped keep her in superb condition. Now, as she looked herself over in the mirror, the only thing she really had to complain about was the size of her boobs. At only 34b, she felt she still looked like a boy on top. "At sixteen I deserve something a bit more impressive!" she thought to herself. She had purposefully omitted to wear a bra this morning. She wanted to try and maximise the impact of what little she had and she was about to turn it all loose on her unsuspecting brother. Satisfied with her look, she pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail with a scrunchy and then skipped from her room. Hurrying along the hallway, she burst into Gavin's room without knocking. "Morning, Bro," she said, launching herself onto his bed. Fiona straddled Gavin's lap, with one knee either side of his hips. She let herself sink down onto him as she leaned forward to buss his cheek with her lips. Gavin was stunned. He knew Fiona had had a crush on him ever since he had rescued her from the school bullies. He had been acutely aware of her looking at him with little puppy-dog eyes and trying to win his attention and praise. He hadn't expected her to go this far, to bounce into his room practically naked and jump his bones. "Err, Fi, what are you doing?" he asked, growing more and more aware of the heat radiating from her directly above his cock. "Can't I say good morning to my big, hunky Bro?" she pouted. Gavin had just been thinking about how heightened his senses had become. There was more evidence of that now, as his cock responded to the heat and feel of Fiona's panty clad crotch on top of it, even through the sheet that covered him. With huge embarrassment, he felt himself begin to get hard and he tried to push Fiona off. He was trying to stop himself from staring down her vest-top at the two perfect titties she was showing him. Fiona also felt something stirring under her and was equally determined to stay exactly where she was. She thrust herself even harder against Gavin and felt the outline of him rubbing up against her little pussy. "Fi, stop it! I need to get up for school!" "Well, by the feel of things, you're already up, Bro," Fiona said. "Fiona, what's gotten into you? You're talking and acting like a cheap little slut. I hope you weren't thinking of going to school dressed like that. You're not even wearing a bra!" Gavin's words were like a physical slap, a bucket of cold water to Fiona. Tears immediately began leaking from her eyes and she covered her face with her hands as she ran from his room. Now Gavin did feel guilty. He knew he had overreacted, but his embarrassment at getting a hard-on had overridden everything else. He had been meaning to have a talk with his sister, now he just had to hope he hadn't left it too late, hope that she would actually speak to him again. Getting out of bed, he looked down at the impressive wood he was still sporting. Despite what had just happened, he couldn't help but smile a little at just how aggressive Fi had been. ------- Fraser was discharged into police custody after only a few more hours of tests at the Victoria Infirmary. He was escorted out to a waiting police car and driven to the high security police station in Govan, normally used for holding terrorist suspects. Gilchrist was an experienced criminal and he refused to answer any questions until he had had the opportunity to speak to the solicitor who worked for the Cullen clan. When Colin Forbes arrived at the station he was given time to confer with his client in private. Forbes had been briefed on the latest position with regards to the turf war and he immediately brought Fraser up to date. "There has been a spate of shootings, nothing the clan can't handle, but Rab particularly wants to know what happened to you," Forbes said. "Well, get me out of this fucking dump and I can tell Rab all about it!" Fraser responded. "That shouldn't be too difficult. The only problem is going to be explaining why both of your companions were carrying illegal firearms. I suggest you just plead ignorance to that. How were you to know they had concealed weapons?" said Forbes. "Okay, the usual drill I suppose? I'll just take my lead from you?" Fraser asked. "Exactly, this shouldn't take too long. You need to start by saying that you were clubbed from behind and didn't see anything that happened. That will help narrow down the range of questioning they can try," said the solicitor. Fraser nodded to show he understood and would do as he was told. Forbes rose and slapped his hand against the cell door to indicate they were now ready for the interview. A burly policeman unlocked the cell door and led them down through the station to an interview room. Drew MacIntosh was already seated at the table alongside another detective. The room was wired, making full use of new technology to record the interview that was about to take place. Fraser and the solicitor took seats and waited for the standard opening to begin. "This is DI Drew MacIntosh in interview room 5, Govan police station. The time is 17:12 and I am about to interview Mr Fraser Gilchrist. Also present is DI Kenny MacLean and Mr Gilchrist's solicitor, Mr Colin Forbes." Drew continued to repeat the standard phrases that ensured the evidence that was about to be collected would be admissible in a court of law. He confirmed that Fraser knew the interview was being recorded and that he was content for that to happen. Drew promised that a copy of the recording would be given to Mr Gilchrist. "Now, Mr Gilchrist. I want to take you back to the events of last night. Two men were shot and killed outside your front door and you were found unconscious, lying beside their bodies. I want you to tell me everything you can about what happened, particularly what you saw of the person or persons who shot Jamie Mulloy and Charlie Haining." Fraser paused and looked at Forbes. The solicitor gave a small nod to indicate that Fraser should answer. "I'm afraid that I'm not going to be much help to you, detective. I remember getting out of the car and then nothing else until I woke up in hospital. I'm guessing somebody clubbed me from behind. I certainly didn't see anybody and both Jamie and Charlie were fine the last I saw of them," Fraser said calmly. MacIntosh's face grew angry, his lips compressing to form the thinnest of lines. "Come off it, Gilchrist! Do you expect me to believe that? Perhaps you'd like to explain why your two companions had illegal firearms concealed on them? Now, from the top, what happened after you left the car?" snarled MacIntosh. The solicitor interrupted before Fraser could respond. "Detective, you have yourself just said that these weapons were concealed. How was my client to know that these two gentlemen were carrying firearms? I suggest he would need to have x-ray vision, which he clearly does not. Now, Mr Gilchrist has already told you that he was knocked unconscious as soon as he left his vehicle. There is quite clearly nothing further he can tell you about the events of last evening. So, if you've finished your questioning perhaps we can collect my client's personal effects and leave?" MacIntosh's face turned beetroot as he tried to hold his rage in check. He knew that the solicitor had effectively blocked off any further questioning and that he would have to let Fraser go. It was fully two hours later before Fraser was able to leave the station with the solicitor. DI MacIntosh had made sure every possible delay was built-in to the release procedure - he was being petty he knew, but it cheered him up no end. Forbes drove Fraser to Rab Cullen's house immediately. "What the fuck happened?" screamed Cullen at him as soon as he walked in the door. "The same bastard who hit the Portcullis happened, that's what!" Fraser replied. "Fuck off. The police reports are already in and it's clear that they were different shooters," shouted Cullen. Fraser paused at that point. "Rab, believe me, I saw the bastard. It was exactly as the witnesses described it. He might have used a different gun, but fuck, it was the same scary bastard!" "Would you like to explain how the fuck you're still alive then?" demanded Cullen. Fraser had asked himself that question over and over. The gunman had been ruthless at the Portcullis, had shown no hesitation with Mulloy or Haining, even finishing one of them off with a head shot. "To be honest, I don't know," he answered now, his voice growing quieter. "Is there something going on that I need to know?" Cullen asked. "Rab, believe me, I'm as confused as you are as to why I didn't get popped last night. He could have taken me out easily." "Well, we're one step ahead of the 'man' by the sounds of things. We know it was the same guy and they don't. I want this bastard, Fraser, I want him bad. If you're right, he's the one who's started all the aggro between the clans," said Cullen now. "Maybe it would be a good idea to meet with the heads of the other clans and share this. It might help calm things down and then we could pool our resources to find him?" suggested Fraser. Cullen thought about that for a few seconds. "Try and set it up. I really want this bastard. I want him so bad I'm even willing to speak to that smelly cunt O'Reilly." Sean O'Reilly was the head of one of the other gangs and a man that Cullen hated with a vengeance. The fact that he was indicating a willingness to meet Sean was a huge step forward, one that gave Fraser hope that the turf war could be calmed. ------- Gavin thought all day at school about how he was going to try and mend fences with Fiona. "Women always respond best to 'grand gestures'," he thought. His reading habits had suggested this kind of approach. "I need to let her know that I love her, that she's special to me, without encouraging her to try again what she did this morning." Gavin smuggled a dozen red roses into the house and sat himself down to write a poem for Fiona. "If this doesn't do it, I might as well give up!" he thought. The poem took him an hour and a half, with many revisions and words substituted until he was satisfied. He read it over. Oh sister mine, You looked divine, And that you must believe. But I'm your Bro, And must say no, Although it makes me grieve. Your golden hair, Your skin so fair, Your eyes, your lips, your beauty. I must resist, The urge to kiss, The love that runs right through me. For you're my friend, Until life's end, I need you more than ever. So help me now, Let's make a vow, To share ourselves forever. But not that way, No sexual play, For us that cannot be. I love you miss, But as my sis, And that's enough for me. "If that doesn't work, I don't know what will!" he thought. Sneaking through to Fiona's room, he left the roses and the poem for her to find. ------- DI MacIntosh at last got his first break, but if anything it was something that suggested his job was going to be even harder then he had thought. The number of shootings had all but dried up around Glasgow, that was a welcome relief. A large number of suspects had been brought in for questioning, mostly on the back of tip-offs the police had received from their army of informants. To date not a single charge had been brought though and Drew was finding it tough going. The break he received was in the form of some further forensic evidence. The single bullet recovered from the body of William Lorimer had been matched to those that had been recovered from the Portcullis. Drew re-read the report, deep in thought as to the implications of this new evidence. "Shit, what does this mean?" he asked himself. "Is it likely that a gang member topped Lorimer and left such a message behind on the wee girl's grave? I don't think so. That means there's someone else in play here. Why would a vigilante have targeted the Portcullis?" There was a lot to think about here, he knew. ------- The news of the new forensic evidence took only six hours to reach the Cullen clan. They of course had additional information and the picture that now presented itself was becoming even more bizarre. The shooter had killed three at the Portcullis, had probably killed two outside Fraser Gilchrist's house and now it seemed he had killed Willie Lorimer in an act of vengeance for the death of three-year old Kirsty Thomson. "Fuck, are we dealing with some kind of vigilante prick?" asked Rab Cullen. "I don't know boss, but the more we learn about him, the easier it should be to catch the bastard," said Fraser. Cullen gave Fraser a look, still concerned about why the shooter had let him live. Was there something about Gilchrist that he should be worried about? ------- Gavin was about to learn one of life's lessons. He had based his approach to trying to placate Fiona on the things he had read about women in books. He didn't understand that even Louis L'Amour was a man and therefore didn't understand women. When Fiona found the roses and the poem she was really excited. Her interpretation of the gesture and the words was far different to what Gavin had expected. "He thinks I'm beautiful, he struggles to stop himself from kissing me and he loves me!" she thought. "He's in denial! He just can't get over the fact that he's my brother too. Well, I'm going to sort that out! He loves me and that's the most important thing!" Gavin had no insight into the female psyche. Fiona had extracted all of the positive things from his poem, all of the things that matched how she felt and ignored the rest. She opened her 'special' drawer and dropped the poem in beside her other special things - the ticket from her first swimming meet, the birthday and valentine cards Gavin had sent her and the photos of Gavin in his speedos. Boys just didn't get it! ------- The next week or so was fairly normal for Gavin. He attended school, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere of the post exam run-in to the summer holidays. Swimming training and work-outs at the dojo also continued to fill his time and he enjoyed the physical exertion. His Sensei at the dojo commented on how good his focus was in sparring, pleased with the edge his young pupil was showing. If anything, Naji Fukijo thought that Gavin's speed had also increased, which was nothing short of remarkable. The Sensei wondered whether Gavin was practising at home or doing something else that was sharpening him up. "Gavin, I am pleased with your efforts tonight. You seem a yard faster and more alert. What have you been doing to bring these improvements out? Have you been fighting at school?" the Sensei joked. Gavin was amazed that his teacher could see a difference in him. He had felt it himself while sparring and had put it down to the experiences he had had over the past few weeks. Performing well in life or death situations had to improve performance he believed. The fact that the Sensei was also able to see it confirmed that the improvements weren't in his head. "No, Sensei. I think it's just that I have been practising everything that you have been teaching me. The meditation routines are particularly good for helping me focus and remain centred," Gavin replied, pleased with his teacher's praise. Gavin walked home from the dojo, pleased with how life was going. He was completely blind to the fact that the police and the Cullen clan were gathering clues as to his identity and were possibly close to identifying him. Perhaps worse, he didn't realise that Fiona was plotting her next move and she was determined to love her brother. ------- Chapter 6: New directions Gavin was struggling to come to terms with himself. It wasn't an internal conflict about the fact he had killed other human beings though, rather it was the inability to get thoughts of Fiona out of his head. The vision of her perfect breasts with their hard pointy nipples wouldn't leave his head. The feel of her, the heat that had radiated from her where she had rested on top of him was a constant turn on. He tried to erase it all from his memory, but it continually intruded. Gavin was extremely inexperienced when it came to the opposite sex. He had never really had a girlfriend, despite being seventeen. Although he had worked hard on his fear over the years, that had been about confronting his demons in terms of dealing with violence. He was still painfully shy when it came to girls. His encounter with Fiona had been the most overt sexual episode, in fact the only real sexual episode he had ever had to deal with. He found himself growing hard whenever the memory forced itself into his consciousness. The impact of his daydreaming had him beating off two or three times a day to try and get things under control. The masturbation acted in the opposite direction to what he intended, crystallising Fiona as the object of his sexual thoughts like nothing else could. He couldn't see it, but basically he was conditioning himself, conditioning himself to obsess over Fiona. ------- The meeting place had been a nightmare to get agreement on. There were four main Glasgow gangs and getting agreement to the heads of these four clans meeting at all was a major achievement in itself. Only the dire circumstances of the turf-war and the impact that it was having on profits could have set the climate for it to happen. Fraser had been the prime moving force in setting things up. He had worked through third parties until he had eventually made contact with the head of each of the other clans. There was an inevitable degree of suspicion and Fraser had had to be imaginative about the venue to try to reassure everybody. In the end he proposed Victoria Recreational Park and after some huffing and puffing all of them agreed. The park had over twenty football pitches and could be approached from all four sides. The vast open space allowed clear views and would make any attempt at an ambush virtually impossible, which helped calm the other clans. Rab Cullen and Fraser arrived first and drove their Toyota Land Cruiser out across the football pitches to a fairly central spot. Sean O'Reilly arrived next, accompanied by two goons, in a Land Rover. Tommy MacLaren came next, his silver Mercedes crawling slowly across the park until it reached the others. Last to arrive was someone from the Turnbull clan. 'Shanks' Turnbull had elected to send his son, possibly still convinced that some kind of trap was being laid. The four main men met each other on the centre circle of the football pitch they had all driven onto. Rab 'the tram' Cullen wasted no time in getting down to business. "I'm sure none of you want this to take long. I'll be brief. I have information that indicates the hits on me and the hit on Willie Lorimer have all been carried out by the same shooter. "The timing of the hits makes me think that this person has deliberately tried to get us at each other's throats. I think we have some kind of crazy do-gooder out there, a do-gooder with a death wish. "I'm offering to end all hostilities and on top of that suggest that we all use our manpower to find this bastard and deal with him," said Cullen. "Well, if there is some kind of vigilante out there, he seems to be targeting you. Why should we be bothered?" asked Frankie Turnbull. Rab turned towards the younger man, his anger clearly written on his face. "It's like this Turnbull. If I'm hurting, I'm gonna make sure the rest of you are hurting too! Anyway, Lorimer wasn't one of mine; he was Sean's. So this character has already shown he doesn't care who he upsets." Agreement to a cease-fire was quickly reached and all of them said that they would actively turn their attention to tacking down the vigilante. The entire exchange lasted five minutes and then each of them was quickly back in their vehicle and heading off. This had been a very unusual occurrence; one the police would have dearly liked to have known about beforehand. Glasgow didn't know it yet, but some calm had just been restored to its streets. ------- It had been several weeks now since the double murder outside Gilchrist's house, but DI MacIntosh wasn't much further forward in his investigation. Forensics had turned up some further information for him - the gun used had been used in several other incidents, dating back over five years. Bullets that matched those recovered from Mulloy and Haining had been recovered in cases of two murders and one armed robbery. The armed robbery had been on an off-license and the owner had been shot and wounded trying to save the money in his till. All of that pointed to the killings of Mulloy and Haining being part of the turf war that, thankfully, seemed to have quietened down. One partial footprint had also been found behind the waste bins outside Gilchrist's house and Drew was betting that that was where the gunman or gunmen had lain in wait for his victims. "I'm still stumped as to why Gilchrist wasn't taken out along with the other two," Drew puzzled. "Why kill two of them and only knock the other one out?" A large whiteboard was fixed to one of the walls of the incident room and someone had constructed a timeline of the various shootings, starting with the three murders in the Portcullis pub. The names of the lead detectives were inked in beside each of the cases to show who was investigating what. His name was alongside the Portcullis shootings, that of William Lorimer and finally the double killing at Gilchrist's. Drew picked through the pile of paperwork on his desk until he found the report on the flower and note recovered from the grave of three-year old Kirsty Thompson. He kept coming back to this, this was the most unusual piece of evidence he had and somehow he knew it was important. Tests had been run on the paper and the plastic wallet it had been sealed in. The paper was a common brand, available at virtually thousands of retail outlets across the city. The plastic wallet was a jewel case for a computer disc. Again, the things were available everywhere and this one was no help to him. Traces taken from both the paper and the plastic wallet suggested they had been handled by someone wearing surgical gloves. "I've got a smart one here alright. Why did he pick this little girl? What was it that made him decide her death needed avenging? What does he mean when he says 'I'm sorry I couldn't save you'? Is he somehow connected to the Thompson family?" Drew shook his head to clear it. Too many questions and not enough answers, it was driving him mad. He read through the witness statements from the Portcullis again. "He shared out the loan sharks money with the pensioners before he left the pub. Why did he do that? Why not keep it for himself? Does the bastard think he's Robin Hood?" MacIntosh had tasked officers to try and find some link between the Thompson family and Stevie Miller. He had ordered that close family friends of the Thompsons should also be looked at. He knew the order of events was the wrong way round, as the pub shootings had happened before Lorimer's murder, but he was running out of ideas. Not surprisingly, no links could be found and for Drew it was another dead-end. "He shared out the money to the poor. He avenges the death of a three-year old girl. Am I dealing with some kind of crazed vigilante?" Drew asked himself. "Sitting here staring at the same reports over and over isn't going to get me anywhere. I need to get out on the streets and do some basic police work." Drew got up and went looking for DI Kenny MacLean. Together the two of them climbed into the unmarked Ford Mondeo in the station car park and Kenny took the wheel. "Where to?" he asked. "The Crown. It's time I had a wee word with Walter to find out what the latest gossip is," MacIntosh replied. The Crown was a pub in Shawlands that was a well known haunt of one Walter Ferguson, a man on the fringes of a lot of criminal activity, but also one of Drew's informants. Twenty minutes later, Kenny pulled the Mondeo over and parked in a street round the corner from the pub. The detectives walked to the pub and entered. The loud noise of rock music coming from the jukebox gave a clue as to the type of clientele who drank here. Drew indicated a table in the far corner of the pub and made his way to the bar while Kenny snagged his chosen spot. "Two pints of lager," Drew ordered. The barmaid was youngish, in her early twenties maybe, dressed in a simple black skirt and white blouse. Quite pretty, Drew thought as he watched her pull the two pints. He handed over a ten-pound note to pay for the drinks and pocketed his change before taking the two lagers over to where Kenny was now sitting. As he walked he scanned the pub looking for Walter Ferguson, but couldn't see him. "Where is he?" MacLean asked. "Don't see him, but he'll be along soon. He does most of his fencing here," Drew replied The two of them sipped their drinks slowly; barely able to stand the raucous music that continued to blare out. MacLean had just gone to the bar to order two refills when Drew spotted Walter Ferguson enter the pub and order a pint of his own. Drew caught his eye and nodded his head in the direction of the Gents toilet. Ferguson gave no sign that he had understood the gesture, but moments later he put his pint on the bar and made his way over to the toilets. DI MacIntosh rose and followed. The inside of the toilet was surprisingly fresh smelling, Drew thought, as he leaned his weight against the door to stop anyone interrupting. "Hello, Walter," he began. "Mr MacIntosh," came the reply. "Things seem to have quietened somewhat out there. Anything I should know about?" Drew asked. "It's quiet because the heads of the four clans met up last week and called a truce," Ferguson said. "Oh, did they now? That's unusual to say the least. What could have been important enough to get those four unlikely bedfellows to meet up? What could be so important as to get them together and for them to call a truce?" asked Drew. "The way I've heard it is that 'the tram' told them that there is some kind of vigilante character who has been trying to get the gangs at each other's throats. According to Cullen, the hits on Mulloy and Haining were timed to escalate the turf-war," said Ferguson. "Hold on a minute. Are you telling me that Cullen thinks it was the same shooter that killed Mulloy and Haining as the one that hit the Portcullis?" Drew demanded. "That's how he's telling it. Gillie swears it was the same man, right down to the ski mask that witnesses at the Portcullis described," Ferguson answered. MacIntosh was stunned. He questioned his informant for any other titbits he could gather, but quickly wound things up. He wanted to get back to the station and factor in this new information. Walking back into the pub proper, Drew signalled to DI MacLean that they had to leave. Kenny didn't look happy at having to leave the nearly full pint that was sitting in front of him, but he rose anyway and followed his colleague out of the pub. "What's the hurry? We both had full pints there," Kenny said as they made their way back to the car. "Walter gave me some very interesting information and it might just shed some new light on our investigation," Drew replied. "Well, are you going to share it with me, or is it a big secret," asked MacLean. "It seems as if the shooter outside Gilchrist's house could be the same man who did Lorimer and hit the Portcullis. We need to look again at the evidence and try to find a link between all of these killings," Drew replied. ------- Gavin hadn't carried out any vigilante attacks for several weeks, but he was still active. He had taken his own advice to calm down a little and to spend more time planning his next action. He knew he had go into things in painstaking detail if he was to avoid being caught - by the police, or worse, the Glasgow gangs. Although he had never been in trouble with the police, he had been fingerprinted going through the American airport the year before, as had everyone else who was not a US citizen. He was worried that somehow the Scottish police would have access to these fingerprint records. For that reason he had ensured he wore surgical gloves at all times when he was handling things that might give him away. It was a simple matter to help himself to a supply of surgical gloves from St Andrew's High School's science supplies and along with his ski mask, they were vital tools for him. He had taken time out to visit an Internet café to send an e-mail to James Wiggins too. His message was a short one. Thanks for the gift; I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you. Job's done and I've even put in some overtime. G Currently he was planning two possibilities for his next 'project'. An article in one of the newspapers had caught his attention. It covered a series of four rapes on young women in Glasgow over a six-month period and claimed that they could all have been carried out by one man. Given how his mother had met her death, rape was a particular dislike for Gavin and he wasn't surprised by his reaction to the article. His only problem of course was how to find the rapist? If he was easy to find then the police would surely have already arrested him by now. Some research on-line had thrown up back articles in other newspapers covering each of the rapes at the time they had been carried out. Gavin had printed them out and had started a little archive of his own, reading and re-reading the column inches, as he tried to identify something that might help him catch-up with the rapist. His other 'project' was one that he knew was far more likely to bear fruit. Gavin had been focussing on a string of drug-pushers around Glasgow. Doing something to take drugs off of the streets had a strong appeal for him. Killing a few low-level pushers would make little difference he knew. For that reason he had been following the pushers in the hope that they would lead him up the food chain to those who were supplying the drugs. Already he had scoped out six pushers and identified three different houses where he believed the middlemen lived. The Anderson's had planned a week's break for the coming week and Gavin planned to rest up before putting his 'game-face' on when he returned. He had already chosen the house he was going to attack first and was well along with his plans for how he would do it. As he was reviewing the articles on the rapes for perhaps the twentieth time, he felt the overwhelming urge to pee. In a move that was going to have significant consequences, he dashed from his room for the bathroom to relieve himself. When he returned a few moments later, he was dismayed to find Fiona in his room flicking through the newspaper cuttings. "Fiona! What are you doing in here? Leave that stuff and kindly leave!" he said, somewhat nervously. It was almost as if she hadn't heard him, as she continued to leaf through the articles. After a few moments, she turned towards him and Gavin didn't like the look on her face. The look was a mixture of fear and loathing and Gavin guessed she had put two and two together and come up with ten. "Fi, it's not what it looks like," he stammered. "What does it look like, Gavin? It looks like my brother is a rapist or at the very least someone who gets off on the idea of rape," she said, her voice cold. "Fi, I can explain," he replied. "Oh, this I've got to hear," said Fiona. Gavin desperately tried to think up a plausible explanation for the cuttings. "I'm waiting, Bro," she said. "Not hear, not now. I'll tell you everything when we get to Lochgoilhead," he replied, stalling for more time to think. "Oh no, I don't think I would feel safe going anywhere with you after this," Fiona said firmly. "You're just looking for time so you can invent some story to cover up." "Fi, that hurts. You know you're always safe with me. Nothing could change that. Please, let me tell you once we get to the cabin," Gavin pleaded. The references to Lochgoilhead and the cabin were about the week's break that Glen and Christine had planned for the family. They had managed to get a cheap deal on a three-bedroom cabin on the Drimsynie Estate in Argyle and the family was due to drive up there the next day. Fiona thought about what he had said. Perhaps she was overreacting a little. Gavin was right, she felt safer with him than anyone else she knew. There had to be a good explanation for this, her bro, the boy she loved, couldn't possibly be a rapist. On the other hand, perhaps this explained why he hadn't ever had a girlfriend and why he was so resistant to her own advances. Perhaps he needed to rape to get his jollies. She made up her mind to trust him. "Okay, but believe me, your explanation had better be good or I'm going straight to mum and dad. Even the thought of you being a rapist makes my flesh crawl," she said with some feeling. With that Fiona stormed from his room without another word. ------- Gavin packed carefully for the trip, despite the fact that his mind was running at a hundred miles an hour trying to come up with a way of explaining away the newspaper cuttings. The journey out of Glasgow and up the A82 through Argyle was a quiet affair and Glen and Christine Anderson glanced at each other, aware that things weren't right between Gavin and Fiona. The scenery they passed through was stunning, the car climbing higher and higher into the mountains of the Western Highlands. Views of lush pine forest and the odd loch would normally have had both Gavin and Fiona excited and talking, but today they remained quiet. Two hours later they pulled in at the entrance to the Drimsynie Estate and drove slowly over a bridge and alongside the Estate's 9-hole golf course. Glen stopped to sign some forms and pick up the keys for their cabin and then drove on to park outside it so they could unpack the car. Gavin had come to a conclusion during the drive and he wasted no time in putting his clothes away in his allotted room. "There's some leaflets here about hiking trails," he called out. "I'm going to walk one of the shorter ones to stretch my legs, does anyone else want to join me?" Christine declined. "There's too much to get organised, Gavin. I need your father, but you go on, take Fiona." Christine hoped that her kids would take the opportunity of sorting out whatever was bothering them. She didn't want her week-long break spoiled by the kind of atmosphere that was evident in the car. This was exactly what Gavin had hoped for. He planned to try and put the issues between Fiona and himself behind them as quickly as he could. How he was going to try and do that held big risks however, and he knew it could backfire horribly. Gavin grabbed his little rucksack and pulled on a pair of hiking boots. He also grabbed a waterproof jacket - it might be June already, but the weather in Scotland was nothing if not unpredictable. He waited on the steps of the cabin for Fiona to join him. Fiona guessed that Gavin was going to take this opportunity to explain the newspaper cuttings and she rushed to get herself ready to walk with him. Despite everything, she couldn't resist the chance to tease her brother again; it had become almost second nature over the past few years. She pulled on her tightest shorts and her own hiking boots before thumping down the stairs, calling out to her parents that they would see them soon. Gavin took in Fiona's shorts. Her long, toned, tennis-player's legs seemed to go on forever and he found it difficult to keep his eyes off of them. He led the way back along the golf course and cut through to a small wooden bridge that crossed the River Goil a few hundred yards from where it flowed into the Loch. They made their way through the streets of the small town, the 'Steeple' hill rising behind and to the right of it and the much higher Ben Donich to the left. Soon they were climbing up the Ben, the going steep and tiring. Nothing was said between them, as both needed all of their breath just to make the climb. At last Gavin stopped at a small rocky outcrop and sat down, swinging his rucksack off of his back to sit beside him. He turned to look down the length of Loch Goil. It took Fiona a few moments before she caught up and joined him. They sat in silence for a few minutes enjoying the view. Gavin sighed. He knew he couldn't put it off any longer. "Fi, there are things about me that you and mom and dad don't know." Fiona's eyes widened at such a dramatic opening statement from Gavin. She felt her insides clench and spasm as she waited for him to continue. "I didn't just become an orphan due to an accident one day. I don't remember my real father being around much, have no conscious memory of him at all really. "When I was eight, I witnessed my mother being raped by three men in our home. One of them strangled her while he was shoving his cock brutally into her ass. "I ran and hid in my bedroom until they left. That's how I came to be in the care of social services before your mom and dad agreed to foster me," he said. Fiona felt the tears streaming down her face. "So you see, sis, rape is not something I could ever do." She climbed onto his lap and hugged him tightly, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck. "Oh you poor, poor baby," she wept, rocking herself against him. Gavin could feel her tears wetting his neck and shirt. He steeled himself to take perhaps the biggest gamble of his life so far. "Fi, there's more. The man who strangled my mother had a scar on each side of his mouth. It kind of made him look like a really scary version of the Joker out of Batman. I'll never forget what he looked like, it gave me nightmares for ages afterwards." Gavin reached behind himself and rummaged in his bag, pulling out a folder. He managed to extract a cutting and handed it to Fiona. She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes as she focussed on the picture of Stevie Miller and read the article. The story told about the shootings at the Portcullis pub and named the man in the picture as Stevie 'the Joker' Miller. "But that's good, Gavin. The man who raped and murdered your mother is dead. There is justice in the world," she said hotly. Gavin said nothing. He reached into his bag and brought out the ski mask and the Browning pistol. Fiona gasped. She scanned the newspaper story again and glanced at the things Gavin held in his hand. The truth dawned on her. Gavin was confessing that it had been him who had burst into this pub and killed three men. "I was justice that day, sis. I promised myself that I would make up for being so scared when my mother was killed. I looked into his eyes as I shot him. I wasn't a scared little boy of eight anymore. I thought about all of the others that man had hurt or robbed and in that instant I served justice for all of us." Gavin's voice had become almost monotone as he told the story. He knew he had to continue and get out the whole tale in one go or he would break down. Fiona had grown numb, limp and he had to put his arm round her to stop her from falling off of his lap. He reached into the folder and brought out the cuttings that covered the story of little Kirsty Thompson and the murder of William Lorimer. He handed it to Fiona and she somehow managed to take it. "I think I got a taste for it, for sticking up for all the good people who are being let down by the police and the courts. This was my next act of vengeance," he said. Fiona read the story and tears once more filled her eyes when she read the message that her brother had left on the little girl's grave. "This was my last act so far," said Gavin, handing Fiona some clippings of the shooting of Mulloy and Haining, with the subsequent gang battles it had sparked. "I knew that it would be likely to start a turf-war and it did. I had them killing each other for almost a week. "The cuttings on the rapes are my research for what I plan to do next. I want to try and catch the rapist and stop him. Stop him permanently." Gavin finished now. He had managed to tell her all of it and he waited for her reaction. He was terrified of what she might say or do and held her to him, staring down the Loch. Fiona felt overwhelmed by everything that she had just heard. Her brother was like some kind of avenging angel. He had taken on the Glasgow gangs. He had killed six people. He was sitting with his arm round her and had a gun lying beside him, a gun that he had used to kill other human beings. She didn't know how she felt about it all. Gavin pulled her tighter up against him and stroked her back. "Fi, say something. Tell me you don't hate me. Tell me you aren't scared of me. Tell me that you believe I'm not a rapist," he pleaded. She felt the strength in his arms, in the hand that was rubbing her back. Surprising herself she felt secure and safe. Her brother would always look after her, but she was still numb. "Gav, I really don't know how I feel. I do know that what you've done is so wrong. You can't just decide to take the law into your own hands. What happens to mom and dad and me if the gangs find you? What happens to you when the police eventually catch you?" she whimpered. "Fi, this is no different really to that day when I took on the bullies who attacked you. There are people out there who can't look out for themselves, I'm sticking up for them the same way I stuck up for you," Gavin replied. Fiona shook her head sadly. This was much bigger than dealing with a few bullies, or was it she asked herself? "We need to tell mum and dad," she said. "As if! How do you think they'd react? They've been so good to me since they took me in. I don't want to be the source of such a disappointment," Gavin replied. "Gavin, grow up! They're going to find out sooner or later. Don't you think it would be better coming from you before the police come to arrest you or you're found dead in a ditch somewhere?" Gavin had to think about that. He realised that Fiona was right. He did owe it to his parents to tell them the truth. He was putting them in great danger; he just didn't relish their reaction. "Come on," said Fiona, there's no time like the present." She stood and pulled him up from the rocks, leading the way along the path that led back to the Estate. It took them forty-five minutes to get back to the cabin. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Gavin couldn't help but stare at Fiona's firm ass as she walked in front of him. It wiggled hypnotically and the shorts she was wearing were incredibly tight, pulling deeply to emphasise the crease of her cheeks. When she had to climb over anything on the path, Gavin was afforded a tantalising view of what he knew was described as a camel-toe. As a result he had to constantly adjust himself. At least it took his mind off of what faced him. Turning, Fiona pouted at him. "Are you staring at my butt?" she demanded to know. Gavin turned red with embarrassment. "I can't believe you pick now of all the times to finally notice me! Your timing sucks, Bro!" she said, pleased, despite the circumstances. ------- Christine knew there was something serious going on as soon as she saw their faces. She immediately suspected that something sexual had happened between Gavin and Fiona and that was what was causing the problem between them. She hadn't been ignorant these past few years about how Fiona felt about her 'brother' "Glen, I think you'd better come in here," she called. Gavin sank onto the sofa in the cabin's main family room. Christine's suspicions were raised further when Fiona sat beside Gavin and quickly took his hand in hers. Christine raised an eyebrow in question, but her daughter simply shook her head, as if to say 'don't go there, mom'. Glen Anderson walked into the room and he too knew immediately that something was wrong. He joined his wife and they both waited for their children to get what was bothering then off of their chests. "Mom, dad, I think you should sit down for this," Gavin suggested. He waited until they did so and then began his story all over again, almost exactly as he had told it to Fiona. Christine's understanding of Fiona and the love she had for Gavin had prepared her to deal with the fact that they had developed a relationship that went beyond being brother and sister. She was completely unprepared for the story Gavin told. Her heart went out to the little boy who she had watched over all those years ago when he had suffered his nightmares. The reason for the nightmares now became clear to her and she couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for him. Both Christine and Glen shared the clipping detailing the death of Stevie Miller. Gavin gave them a few moments to read the story and then reached into his bag once more and brought out the ski mask and the Browning. Christine gasped out loud and Glen moved to put his arm around his wife, staring at the weapon. "It was you?" Christine managed to stammer. Gavin nodded, his head down, unable to look at his parents. He continued his story and laid everything out for them. When he had finished, he looked up and met his parent's eyes. Glen was slowly shaking his head, stunned at what Gavin had just told them. Christine was crying quietly. "You'll have to turn yourself in to the police, son," Glen eventually managed to say. "No!" screamed Christine. Glen looked at his wife in surprise. "Honey, Gavin has killed six people. He'll be caught eventually. Things might go a bit better for him if he gives himself up." Christine could only think of her boy going to prison for a very long time. She knew she wouldn't be able to bear that. "He can just stop right now. If he doesn't do it anymore then perhaps they'll never find out who was behind it," she said. "Listen to yourself, Christine. Listen to what he's just told us! He's already planning his next acts of vengeance, he can't give it up!" Glen's voice rose. "It's all black and white to you isn't it? Well, let me tell you buster that it's different for women. I've felt scared and helpless. I've watched society get worse and worse, I don't feel safe walking home at night. The idea that Gavin might be out there protecting me would certainly make me feel better. Did you read the statement in the article from the little girl's mother? That's exactly how I would feel if someone harmed Fiona, I would shake the hand of whoever killed the man who hurt her." Glen was shocked at his wife's outburst. He didn't know where it had come from, didn't know that she harboured such fears. "Honey, we can't all just decide to take the law into our own hands. That's what the police and the courts are there for," he tried to reason. "And look at what brand of justice they dish out! The killer released on bail so he could peddle more drugs, perhaps kill again. No, I think Gavin has been doing something that we should applaud. If only more of us had the courage to fight back the way he has, perhaps we'd all be safer in our beds" Christine said passionately. Gavin and Fiona were also stunned at this turn of events. "Christine, you're not making any sense," Glen started only to be cut off. "No, dear. It's you who is not making sense. You were proud of Gavin when he went to save his sister from the school bullies, why are you changing your tune now?" "Christine, there's a bit of difference between fighting off a few boys and killing six men! Listen to yourself," Glen replied. "What's the difference? It's still standing up for what's right, defending those who aren't strong enough to defend themselves. Why should the criminals, the evil men, hold all the cards? Gavin has made a tough choice, has lived through some very painful memories. He's a good boy and I think we should stand behind him!" Glen shook his head. "Glen Anderson! We made our choice when we asked Gavin to become our son. To me that means something. He is my son, are you now denying him? Are you willing to let your son rot for most of his life in a prison?" Glen flinched at Christine's words. He took a deep breath and screwed his eyes shut before letting the breath out in a long sigh. He opened his eyes and looked at first Christine and then Gavin. "God help me, no, he's my son too. I don't want that for him, but this has to stop before it's taken out of our hands." The rest of the evening was strained to say the least. The subject was studiously avoided and no one seemed to have an appetite at dinner. Once things were cleared away, Gavin and Fiona washed up. Glen looked at his son washing dishes. It was hard to come to terms with the boy he thought he knew, the quiet boy now doing something as mundane as washing plates, being a multiple killer. For better or worse his wife had talked him into standing by that boy, that boy who was his son. ------- Later that night, after they had gone to bed, Christine heard her daughter creeping down the hall to Gavin's room. After everything she had heard today, the thought of them being together that way no longer seemed such a big issue. She actually allowed herself to smile in the darkness; she knew what it was like to be young and in love. She hoped her daughter and her son were as lucky as she had been. ------- Gavin heard his door open and then felt Fiona crawl in beside him. She wiggled backwards so that he was spooned up behind her. "Don't say anything, just hold me," she whispered. He let his left arm circle her waist. His right arm was bent upwards; cushioning his head and that allowed him to gently stroke her soft, blonde hair until they both fell asleep. ------- Chapter 7: Back to business It was almost as if there was unspoken agreement within the family that Gavin's confession was to be put to one side so they could all enjoy the week together. Each of them knew that if things went badly this could be the last time they spent with each other and they seemed determined to make the most of it. Gavin and Glen made the hike to a nearby loch that allowed fishing and they each managed to hook fair-sized brown trout. Fiona hardly let Gavin out of her sight and the fishing trip had been a bone of contention, as she had wanted to tag along. The peaceful time lying on the banks of the loch gave Gavin and Glen both some time to think. Christine showed herself to be a dab hand when it came to cleaning and cooking the fish and they all enjoyed the trout for dinner. Family fun consisted of games of indoor bowling and even ice skating on the Drimsynie Estate and Glen managed to convince Gavin to play some golf with him. Day trips in Glen's car helped fill the time too and they made the journey to the picturesque town of Oban with its little harbour. Fiona's favourite time of day was first thing in the morning, as she spent a blissful hour watching Gavin swim in Loch Goil. His strong stroke had him slicing through the cold sea-loch's water like he was born to it and she was spellbound by his toned body. After that first night she had refrained from joining Gavin in his bed and she even toned down the amount of teasing she indulged in. By the end of the week, although the atmosphere had been strained at times, even surreal, they had all tried to enjoy the time together. But inevitably things had changed between them after Gavin's confession and they could never be the same again. The genie was out of the bottle and each of Gavin's family had been affected in different ways. Christine was blinded by the love for her son. Her passionate outburst on the night the story was told betrayed her own real fears about society. She really did feel scared at times and genuinely felt safer now knowing what Gavin was capable of. Glen was the most uncomfortable. Being a man there was a subconscious rivalry between him and all other males, even if he didn't know it himself. The knowledge that Gavin had actually killed six people, was capable of that, subtly changed how Glen treated his son. He thought twice now about telling Gavin what to do or disagreeing with him. That certainly made him uncomfortable. Knowing that Gavin had a gun with him was also extremely unsettling. Fiona was surprised when she searched her own feelings to find that the fact Gavin was capable of such violence excited her. She found herself drawn to her brother even more, but was determined to do all she could to keep him safe. On their last night Gavin decided to share with them what he had been thinking about for several days now. He waited until everyone was in the family room, relaxing and preparing to watch a DVD they had brought with them. He coughed nervously to get their attention. "Guys, I've come to a decision. I realise that I've been very selfish and unthinking. My actions are putting all of you in danger and I think it would be best if I mark going off to University by moving out of the house," he said Gavin couldn't have stirred things up more if he had lobbed a grenade into the room. Glen looked at him curiously, but Christine and Fiona immediately started in on him, vying with each other to see who could speak first. "Don't be so ridiculous!" snapped Christine. "You can't just move out, what about me?" whined Fiona. "Where did this nonsense come from? Tell him, Glen, tell him he's not to move out," added Christine. "What's made you come up with this stupid idea?" asked Fiona. Gavin sat back in the face of the onslaught from his mother and sister. Their intensity was breathtaking and if he had had any doubts as to how much they loved him, they were pretty much dispelled then and there. He looked to Glen for some support, but his father merely shook his head. Glen was wiser and was intent on keeping out of the women's firing line when they were building up such a head of steam. Given his own concerns, he also secretly felt that Gavin moving out might not be such a bad thing. "Mom, if I had gone to Southern Utah I would be away from home anyway, what's the difference?" Gavin asked, thinking his clear logic would calm things down. "That's not the point and you know it, Gavin. You can't share what you have with us and then expect us to be happy at the idea of you moving out. Now more than ever I want you where I can see you!" replied Christine, ignoring his logic completely. "Mom, I couldn't bear it if something happened to any of you and it was because of me. This way if the gangs find out who I am, I only have to worry about my own safety. Remember, I've already lost one mother. Losing another would be too much to take," Gavin persisted. Reminding Christine of what had happened to his mother seemed to have an effect and she quietened down somewhat. "Mom! You're not going to let him do this are you?" asked Fiona, worried that her mother appeared to be weakening. "Sis, it's not like I would be that far away if you wanted to come and visit," Gavin said. Gavin had meant this last comment innocently, but Fiona immediately saw possibilities and she too began to quieten down. Glen was impressed by the way his son had handled the two womenfolk and now thought it was safe to say something. "Son, are you suggesting this just so you can continue doing what you have been?" he asked. "Dad, I had already decided to be far more careful about what I'm doing. I don't think I can stop though, I believe in this so strongly. I can only promise that I'll take my time planning and covering my trail as best I can," Gavin replied. "I can't say that I'm happy about any of this. I agree with your mother. Knowing what we know now, I'd rather you stayed at home, son so we can keep an eye on you. I'd also prefer it if this vigilante stuff was to stop," Glen said. Anyone listening closely would have detected the lack of conviction when Glen said he thought it best Gavin stay at home. However, Gavin didn't pick up on his father's tone of voice. "I'm due to sit my driving test in a month's time. I'm due to go to Strathclyde University in September. I'm growing up dad. Lot's of people leave home to go and study at my age and I don't see why I should be any different," Gavin argued. "Not everybody is running around shooting people!" Glen replied sharply. Gavin simply shrugged. He felt he would get his way in the end and didn't push it any further for the moment. ------- The drive home was largely made in silence, admittedly a different silence from that which they had endured on the way to Drimsynie. It was Gavin who managed to break the mood. "Look if you don't all cheer up a bit I might have to kill you!" he joked. Although it was at best a weak attempt at a joke and at worst a painful reminder of everything that had changed between them in the past week, the black humour somehow suited the mood of the women and his mom and sister were suddenly laughing hysterically. Glen glanced at his son in the rear view mirror. Comments like that added to his discomfort and it was noticeable that he didn't join in the laughter. "Son, you've got to realise that this is no joke! If you don't, things are going to come crashing down around you sooner rather than later," he thought to himself grimly. "Listen guys, I still have nearly three months before I start University. It's not as if I'm going away tomorrow. I promise I'll try and behave until then, honest," he said. Gavin's reassurance helped to relax the mood with the girls even more. Glen still had significant misgivings but kept quiet for now. ------- DI MacIntosh knew he was waiting for a break. He had tried everything in the book to get a lead on the vigilante - that's how he thought of the killer now, the vigilante - but with no luck. Door to door enquiries around Gilchrist's house had turned up nothing. Footage from traffic cameras and all of the CCTVs located in nearby businesses was examined. He had even ordered traffic stopped in the hope that someone who travelled the same route everyday might have noticed something out of place. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. His gut instinct told him that his man would strike again, he seemed to have developed a taste for it and he wouldn't be able to deny himself for long. Drew had to hope that the vigilante would make a mistake, that was usually how they were caught. He only had to get lucky once; the killer had to get lucky every time. The fact that it had been over three weeks since the last incident suggested to Drew that it wouldn't be much longer before something happened. ------- The Glasgow gangs were having just as much luck in identifying the vigilante. Fraser was fast coming to the conclusion that the man had no connections to the criminal underworld at all. With the weight of all of the big Glasgow clans behind the effort to find him, if he was known to anyone his name would have been given up by now. The idea that someone without any previous criminal background could be killing people intrigued him. It was possible it was a member of the armed forces or someone who was ex-military he supposed. With Iraq and Afghanistan there were certainly plenty of battle-hardened men out there. That would certainly account for how calm and professional the hits had been. Fraser regularly called the other gangs to make sure the heat was kept up in the hunt. "It would help if he put in another appearance!" Fraser thought to himself. "But preferably not around me this time." ------- The next four weeks were relatively calm in the Anderson household and Gavin managed to keep to his word, sticking to planning and watching targets rather than acting. He had gradually noticed that Glen's relationship with him had begun to change and that convinced him that his decision to move out was the right one. Fiona had also re-doubled her efforts to interest him and, being honest with himself, Gavin knew his resistance was coming to an end. One more reason for him to put some distance between himself and his sister. At the end of July he sat his written driving test and aced it. All that remained between him and a full license was the practical test. On the day of the test he used some of the meditation techniques from his martial arts training to help calm and centre himself. His driving instructor picked him up at 10am for one last lesson on their way to the test centre and Gavin drove the small Honda Civic around for forty minutes. They practised all of the main manoeuvres that he would be required to perform during the test itself and Gavin felt confident. They arrived at the test centre with plenty of time to spare before Gavin's appointed time of 11:10am. His instructor wished him luck, as they both entered the centre and the examiner took over. "Okay Mr MacSween, please point out your vehicle?" the examiner asked. "Ah, it's the silver Honda Civic over there," Gavin pointed. "Could you read the number plate of the car parked on the other side of the road please?" the examiner asked next. Gavin did so; his eyesight was first class. "Okay, could you lead the way to your vehicle now please? Gavin thought the examiner was being overly formal, but he shrugged that off and proceeded to follow his instructions as they drove round the streets that surrounded the test centre. He managed his hill-start; his three-point turn and reversed expertly round a corner. After only twenty minutes the examiner directed him back to the centre and asked him to park up and turn off the engine. Looking at the man's face, Gavin still had no idea whether he had passed or failed. "Man, you are such a tight ass! Just tell me for goodness sake," he thought to himself. "Well, Mr MacSween, I'm pleased to tell you that you've passed. Congratulations," the examiner said. Everybody knows that passing the driving test is a big thing for any teenager. The increased mobility and freedom driving brings is something that is almost like a right of passage. Gavin was no different. He was excited, delighted and absolutely hyper when his instructor re-joined him and he confirmed that he had passed. It was the excitement perhaps that tipped him over the edge. He had been fighting the urge to go back out on the streets and become the vigilante once more. Now he felt the need to celebrate and he couldn't stop himself any longer - the perfect way to reward himself was to let the vigilante loose. After a nice dinner with his family and congratulations all round, he told them he was turning in for the night. "I think all of the excitement has drained me," he said, "I'm feeling really tired and am just going to hit the sack." He had already packed his little rucksack in preparation for what he intended to do and he checked through the contents one last time to make sure he had everything he would need. After all this time he had finally counted the banknotes in the two bundles he had taken from the Portcullis and was stunned to find he had nearly two thousand pounds. He had used some of the money to purchase some useful items over the past weeks and his plans for the night would see him try some of them out. Once he was satisfied everything was ready; Gavin lay down on the bed and took a nap, waiting for the rest of the family to retire for the night. ------- There are skills involved in dealing drugs, at least if the dealer wants to avoid spending a long time behind bars. The first rule for the successful dealer was to put distance between himself and the point of sale, that's why there were low-grade pushers out on the streets. Even here there was a need to protect one's assets and there were ways of pushing the drugs to minimise losses - both in the numbers of pushers arrested and in the amount of drugs lost. The pusher only ever carried a small amount of drugs at one time. As sales were made, the pusher needed to continually restock. In that way if they were picked-up by the police they didn't have enough product on them to be charged with dealing. Their easy escape was to simply claim the small quantity of drugs was for their own personal use. Gavin had learned all of this by observing and following pushers over the two months. He had watched the pushers being re-stocked - always by someone in a vehicle so they were mobile while carrying the larger stock of drugs - and then used his borrowed scooter to follow the next link in the chain. The trail had led to the middle-ranked dealers. He was sure if he had the ability to follow these men he would eventually arrive at the suppliers, but he didn't have the resources to do that. Gavin had staked out six different pushers and knew exactly how the re-stock took place. The pushers had a particular signal that they used to tell their suppliers when they needed additional drugs. If the signal wasn't given, the vehicle would simply drive past and head on to the next pusher. If the signal was given, the car or jeep pulled over and a quick exchange took place. He wasn't that interested in the pushers or the next link in the chain really, but they happened to be a means to an end on this occasion and that was unlucky for the ones he had chosen. The first ones to meet the vigilante. He watched now as the first pusher kept himself tucked in the shop doorway about twenty yards away from him. The shop was located on Byres Road; just on the North side of the River Clyde and in Glasgow's student quarter. The shop had long since closed for the day, but provided a convenient station for the pusher. Business was slow and there were only two sales in the half-hour Gavin watched. Once the supply car passed, Gavin decided he had seen enough, the first take down had to be completed before the car returned. He crossed the road and shambled forward, as if he had been drinking heavily. He was careful to avoid looking directly at the shop, wanting the pusher to be relaxed and off-guard. His peripheral vision took in the fact that the man sunk deeper into the doorway and he had his position zeroed in. A quick series of glances confirmed that he was unlikely to be observed, the street was clear. As Gavin drew level with the shop any hint of awkwardness or alcohol disappeared. He lunged violently to his left with explosive speed and was on the pusher before he knew it. Gavin's hands snapped upwards, grabbing the man on either side of his head before twisting it savagely from left to right. He heard and felt the bones in the spine break and knew that the spinal cord had been severed. The attack had taken seconds from start to finish and the pusher hadn't stood a chance. Gavin quickly pushed the body into the deepest recess of the shop doorway. This particular pusher had been unlucky twice over. His overall build was similar to Gavin's and the clothes he wore - a sweatshirt with a hood - were tailor-made to help Gavin with the next step in his attack. He put on his ski mask and pulled the hood of his own sweatshirt tight around his head and face, preparing himself to signal the supply car on its next circuit. His most immediate problem was going to be the fact that the cars always pulled in with the driver furthest away from the kerb. That meant he would need to be quick in dealing with the man at the wheel to stop the car simply driving away. Gavin hoped he had worked out an answer to that. It was only fifteen minutes later when he spotted the supply car, in this case a Subaru. Gavin took a step out of the shop doorway and held up his right hand with three fingers raised. He made sure to keep his mask-covered face hidden by the hood. The car responded to the signal, the same signal he had watched the pushers use to call the vehicle in. It worked like a charm now, as he watched the Subaru pull over to the kerb. Gavin remain nerveless and calmly walked forward. As the electric window on the passenger side came down, Gavin burst into motion once more. The wires of the taser flew in through the open window and struck the driver, shocking him into immobility immediately. The hand holding the stun gun continued forward and smashed the passenger on his left temple, knocking him unconscious too. Gavin wrenched the rear passenger door open and used brute strength to pull the man in the front seat through the space between the seats and into the rear. Running round the car, he manhandled the driver over onto the passenger side and found the release for the trunk. He scanned the streets quickly before sprinting back to the shop doorway and hoisting the body of the pusher and his bag, dropping them both into the trunk. Finally he jumped into the driver's seat and pulled the car back onto the road. A ludicrous thought flitted through his head and he snickered to himself. "My first time driving legally since passing my test!" Gavin was well aware of the massive surge in the use of CCTV throughout the city and he wanted to give the police no clues as to which ones to examine for evidence of his activities. That meant leaving nothing behind at the scene to attract attention. He also knew he didn't have long to get someplace where he could properly secure the two unconscious druggies before they recovered and caused him problems. He rolled his ski mask up off of his face and made sure he kept the car within the speed limit, as he navigated the Subaru onto first Great Western Road, then Bearsden Road and finally into Dawsholm Park. One of the beauties of Glasgow as a city is the sheer number of parks it boasts. That worked in Gavin's favour now. Grabbing his bag from the trunk, he retrieved the wires and reloaded the taser then quickly dragged the man from the front of the Subaru into the rear to join his friend. He used tie-wraps to secure the hands of both of them behind their backs and wound gaffer tape round and round their heads to keep them quiet. ------- Only a few miles Northwest of Dawsholm Park lay the Bearsden area of Glasgow. Bearsden is a largely wealthy, middleclass area inhabited by mostly professional people. Nesting like a cuckoo in the middle of this affluent neighbourhood was one particular house, used by the O'Reilly clan as part of their drugs operations. The house was considered perfect for what it was used for. Each of the lots was big enough so that there was plenty of privacy. The nature of the residents meant that they pretty much kept to themselves. The fact that the occupants of number 25 Kinfauns Drive didn't speak to anyone who lived close by was not thought to be suspicious. Simply being able to afford one of these properties was considered enough to put people above suspicion. The final feature of 25 Kinfauns Drive that was thought useful, was also something that had attracted Gavin. The house had a three-car garage with a remote door. That allowed the comings and goings of the O'Reilly clan even more privacy, but Gavin considered it a weak spot, as he knew it allowed access to the house. A few minutes after securing the men in the back of the Subaru, he had reached Kinfauns Drive and turned in at the driveway to the house, thumbing the remote to open the door. By the time the car had reached the garage, the door was fully open and he simply drove in, closing the door behind him by thumbing the remote once more. Gavin was out of the car in a flash, pulling his ski mask down once more. He quickly identified the door into the house and made one final check to make sure the Browning was secure and available in his waistband. The taser had recharged and he had it in his right hand, ready for use. Gavin could once more feel himself come alive, his senses heightened and on full alert, as he moved fluidly over to and through the door. The house was a large one and he knew it would take some time to satisfy himself that he had fully checked out every room. He began with the ground floor. His entry had brought him into a utility room and he was guessing it led onto the kitchen. Opening the door, he found himself face to face with another of the O'Reilly clan, this one in the process of getting himself a snack from the large fridge. Gavin's reactions were a hundred times quicker than the stunned druggie and the taser's wires flew forward once more, stunning the man before he could raise a peep. Gavin demonstrated his incredible speed once again, leaping forward to catch the man before he could fall noisily to the floor. He laid him down gently and secured his hands with another plastic tie-wrap then pulled the Browning and made his way deeper into the house. He could hear the noise of someone moving about upstairs and he glanced cautiously at the stairway on his right. The broad hallway he was in had four further doors leading off of it and he knew he would have to quickly clear each room before thinking about venturing up the stairs. The first door led to a downstairs WC, which was empty. Slowly opening the second door, Gavin peered round it to find some kind of family room that looked onto the back garden of the house. Again it was empty. His cautious approach to the third door bizarrely revealed a music room, complete with upright piano. Gavin's eyes darted round the room and took in the thick layer of dust. It was clear that none of the O'Reilly men were musicians. As he neared the final door he could hear voices coming from the other side. Gliding up to the door, he held his left ear up against it, trying to hear what was going on. The excited voice was immediately clearer and Gavin was able to make out that it was actually a commentator describing the action in a football game. The O'Reilly clan were watching the match highlights. His left hand smoothly lowered the door handle and Gavin burst into motion, rolling forward into the room. In one movement he came to his knee, the Browning steady in front of him as he scanned the room. Once again it was empty, the TV blaring in one corner. Absently Gavin noted that it was an English football match that was playing. Retracing his steps, he was part way along the hallway when he heard someone coming down the stairs. Thinking quickly, he stepped inside the music room, leaving the door cracked open ever so slightly. With his eye to the crack he watched a heavy man lumber past him on the way to the sitting room. Gavin stepped out silently behind the man and brought the Browning crashing down onto the back of his skull. Once more he caught the man, this time with more difficulty given his greater weight, and laid him on the floor. He secured the man's hands before making his way to the foot of the stairs. Ten painstaking minutes later, Gavin had confirmed that there was no one else in the house. He quickly searched all of the rooms upstairs before returning to the room with the TV, stepping over the prone druggie on his way. Closer scrutiny of the sitting room turned up a large quantity of drugs of various kinds. Gavin was no expert but the bags filled with various pills and powders and the blocks of brownish 'cake' beside a small set of scales all looked like he expected drugs to look. He also found a sports bag full of neatly stacked bundles of cash and a handgun that looked like the twin of his own Browning. Taking the bag and the gun, he returned to the garage and dumped them in the trunk. Gavin dragged the dead pusher out and laid him down on the concrete floor. He rifled through the man's pockets, finding a small wad of banknotes and several small baggies of drugs. The cash went into his pocket. Gavin pulled a small piece of paper out of another pocket and wrapped it round the drugs, stuffing the roll into the mouth of the dead pusher. He pulled the two men from the rear of the Subaru and laid them out next to their dead friend, then snagged his gaffer tape and made his way back into the house to effectively silence the two other men. Satisfied with his work, Gavin jumped back into the car and used the remote to open the garage door. He reversed out and down the driveway, thumbing the remote to close the door and hide his night's work from sight once more. The ski mask was rolled up and off of his face, as he turned the car onto the street and headed back into the city. From the point where he had attacked the pusher it had taken just over an hour to carry out his plans. Gavin was pleased everything had gone so smoothly. He navigated the Subaru across town, parking it in the lot of a 24-hour supermarket. He grabbed the sports bag and his own rucksack and made his way along the road to a nearby bus stop. ------- Fiona came awake and felt a hand covering her mouth. She started to panic until she heard her brother's whisper. "Shhhh. It's me. I need a little help," he said quietly. "Gavin? What time is it? What are you doing?" she asked. "Put your heavy coat on and follow me," he said by way of reply. Fiona blindly followed her brother's instructions and was soon heading downstairs quietly behind him. When he paused at the outside door to put on his shoes, she followed likewise and then they both slipped outside. "Gavin, what's going on?" she demanded once they were a little distance from the house. "I need you to do something for me," he replied. Ten more minutes of walking brought them to a call box and Gavin handed Fiona a small box and a piece of paper. "I want you to read out the words on the paper but you need to speak through the box so it distorts your natural voice," he told her. Fiona looked at the paper and gasped. "Oh Gavin, what have you done now?" she asked. "I'll tell you later, let's make the call," he replied. As Fiona reached for the handset, Gavin stopped her. She looked down, saw he was wearing surgical gloves and realised he was being careful to avid leaving fingerprints. Gavin lifted the handset and dropped a coin into the slot. He had memorised the number for Stewart Street police station and now dialled it. When he heard a voice answer, he held the handset up to Fiona's ear and mouth. She had jammed the little box over her mouth and now read the words Gavin wanted her to. "Listen carefully. This is a message from the vigilante. Go immediately to 25 Kinfauns Drive. Have fun." Gavin's finger pressed down to sever the connection then he hung up the handset. He pulled his sister to him and gave her a tight hug. "Thanks sis, now let's get home." ------- Chapter 8: Groundswell The good citizens of Bearsden were shocked to awake that morning to find an entire police scene of crime team swarming over 25 Kinfauns Drive. This was sensational stuff for the residents, residents who were as used to being close to crime as they were to taking day trips to the moon. DI MacIntosh had spent three hours at the house during the early hours of the morning and he felt sure that the vigilante had carried out this latest attack on a Glasgow gang. The detectives had been careful not to disturb anything until the forensics people arrived and began their work. By this time the four different O'Reilly clan members had regained consciousness, but no one had moved to untie them or to remove the tape keeping their mouths shut. There was always the possibility that prints could be lifted from the men themselves. Certainly prints could be taken from the tape and it had been agreed that it would need to be removed surgically to safeguard it. As a result, all four men were taken out of the house on stretchers and wheeled into waiting ambulances. Drew had looked at the neighbours who were straining to see what was going on. The flashing lights of the ambulances and the arc-lights of the police teams pierced the darkness of the night and lit up the scene so that onlookers had a decent, if distant view. It wasn't clear to the neighbours whether the stretchers that came out contained dead bodies or injured people. When a single body-bag was carried out though there was no doubt that there had been at least one fatality in their street. Large evidence sacks were also brought out and the onlookers could only guess at what they contained. It wasn't long before uniformed officers were making their way up and down the street, questioning the residents as to what they had seen or heard. When the initial results turned up nothing of any use, Drew decided to head back to the station. ------- The telephone alert had been recorded, a matter of routine for all calls coming in to the station. Experts were working on it, but Drew had listened to it and was sure that the caller was female, despite the heavy distortion. "So, the vigilante has at least one accomplice. Let's hope he has more. As the saying goes, the only way two people can keep a secret is if one of them is dead," Drew thought to himself. The detective reviewed what he knew about this latest attack and killing. The vigilante had killed one and subdued four others. Drew didn't know if he had managed that on his own or whether there were now more people in play. Leaving four of the criminals alive suggested a high degree of control of the situation. The fact that Gilchrist hadn't been killed outside his house was evidence that the vigilante didn't always feel the need to kill, so leaving four alive wasn't completely out of character. Knowing where the drugs house was situated showed either the vigilante had inside information or there had been a lot of preparation put in before this hit. The supply of drugs discovered in the house had made it clear immediately why the vigilante had taken an interest in the place and the people. Because of the vigilante's work, Strathclyde police had one of its biggest drug hauls of the year. "How did he get to the house? How did he get in? Were all of the men in the house?" These were all questions Drew knew he had to have answers to. He was hopeful he would soon be able to question the four men found tied up at the house and that might give him some answers. It was more likely that the hardened criminals would clam up however, and he would get nothing from them. "Maybe he will have made his mistake this time and forensics will find something," ------- Sean O'Reilly didn't take the news that one of his bases had been attacked very well at all. The loss of men - in particular his two lieutenants who had been based in the house in Bearsden - was a serious blow. The loss of the drugs and the money they represented was also not insignificant. Sean made contact with Fraser, using the number that had been provided. "It looks like he's struck again. One of my drugs houses was hit last night and Strathclyde's finest are all over it," he said. "Where?" Fraser asked. "Bearsden," O'Reilly replied. "A bit up market for you, Sean," said Fraser. "Fuck off! Look, we need to find this bastard. I'm losing a fortune here. Has anybody else turned up any leads?" Sean asked. "Nothing, but maybe we'll get some help from plod. With any luck he'll have made a mistake and the boys in blue will catch him," Fraser replied. "Fuck that! I'm not letting him away with just jail time; I want him so bad I'm getting a hard-on! If he does get banged up then he'll only last a day before one of my boys gets to him," O'Reilly snarled. "Look, how did he manage to find your base? Is it possible you've got a squealer? Are you trying to get to the bottom of that?" Fraser asked. O'Reilly realised that he hadn't thought of that and quickly wound up the call to set an internal investigation in motion. ------- By the time Gavin got himself out of his bed, Glen and Christine had both left for work. He turned on the TV and tuned to the 24-hour news channel but it didn't look as if the hit on the drug dealers had broken yet. Going back to his room, he pulled the sports bag out from under his bed and emptied its contents onto the duvet. Fiona chose that moment to come wandering into the room and she gasped when she saw the pile of money. "Oh my god, Gavin! Where did all that come from?" she asked breathlessly. Gavin simply smiled in reply. "How much is there?" Fiona asked next. "I was just about to count it," Gavin replied, "why don't you help me?" As she moved towards the bed, he stopped her and threw her a pair of surgical gloves. "Put these on first," he advised. It took twenty minutes to count it all, the gloves making the job more difficult than it normally would have been. "How much in your pile?" Gavin asked. "Sixteen thousand, four hundred and fifty pounds - I think," said a stunned Fiona. "I've got twenty-two thousand, two hundred. So that's over forty thousand now," Gavin said with a grin. "Even I can count better than that," Fiona laughed. Gavin walked to his cupboard and pulled out the remainder of the two thousand pounds from the Portcullis. "Ah, my Lady. You can count but you see, there's more here! Hehehehe," Gavin gave an evil laugh. Fiona punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Are you going to tell me now what last night was all about?" she asked him. In reply he pulled her downstairs and pushed onto the sofa. "Watch that while I make you a cuppa," he said. Gavin's timing was excellent. Just as he returned with a steaming mug of tea, there was a wooshing noise on the TV and the legend 'Breaking News' appeared. He handed the mug to Fiona and joined her on the sofa, draping an arm round her shoulder. " ... now, dramatic breaking news from the leafy suburbs of Glasgow. I believe we can join our reporter, Candice MacDonald." "Thanks, Sally. Details are sketchy so far, but I can tell you that Strathclyde police have swooped to make a major drugs haul here in Glasgow's affluent Bearsden. "Local residents have informed me that they witnessed a number of bodies being removed from this house on Kinfauns Drive behind me in the early hours of this morning, Sally. "Strathclyde police have refused to confirm or deny any details of fatalities and will only say that their investigations here are at an early stage. It's also unclear whether any fatalities which may have occurred could be the result of the police investigation or down to something else. I can say that armed police units are present here at the scene." "Candice, surely it's an unlikely spot to find a drugs base?" "That's right, Sally. Bearsden is normally a quiet and well-to-do area with a very low crime rate. Residents are alarmed to find that serious criminal activity has been going on right in their midst." "Okay, thanks for now, Candice." "We'll bring you updates on that breaking news as we get it. Now, back to events today in the Houses of Parliament..." Fiona turned within the circle of Gavin's arm. "Was that you? She said Kinfauns Drive, wasn't that the address I had to give over the phone last night? Oh, Gavin, have you killed more people?" she asked. He considered his reply for a few moments. "There were five drug dealers involved last night, sis. I killed one of them but left four alive for the police to pick up. The main point here is that I've removed a large quantity of drugs from Glasgow's streets - you heard the report, a major drugs haul. That wouldn't have happened without me," Gavin asserted. Fiona buried her head against his shoulder. "But I worry about you, Gav. Listen to yourself. You're seventeen and you went up against five drug dealers last night. How much longer before something happens to you? How many more times before it's you they're reporting as a dead body?" "Shhh. Don't worry baby. Your bro is going to be just fine, trust me," he reassured her. Gavin let his arm drop from her shoulders and began rubbing her back in gentle circles. "Thanks for trusting me last night too. I didn't want to run the risk of the gang finding the drugs before the police did. That's why I had to make a call," he whispered quietly Gavin buried his nose in her blonde hair, smelling faint traces of her apple shampoo. "Please don't go out again, Gavin," she whimpered. "I'm afraid I have to, baby. If I don't go out tonight and hit the next drugs house they will have too much time to find out how I managed last night's attack and get themselves ready for me. I need to hit them again as soon as possible." He tried to continue to reassure her, stroking her hair now and enjoying how soft it felt. He brushed the hair from her slender neck and dipped his head to kiss the tender, sensitive skin just below her ear. He felt her shudder in response. "You should know better, you need to calm down and believe your brother can look after himself," he said quietly. Fiona felt the little sparks of electricity flying from the points where his lips and fingers touched her. All thoughts about what he was planning disappeared, as her entire being focussed on the contact she had with him. His fingers were gliding through her hair, his lips were caressing her neck, his fingers were tracing patterns on her back and her cheek pressed against the rock hard muscle of his chest. A soft moan escaped Fiona's lips. Gavin pulled his face from her hair at exactly the same moment as Fiona raised her face to look at him. Their eyes met and ever so slowly he closed the gap between them until their lips brushed against each other. Fiona felt even more violent sparks fly and another moan came from her now slightly parted lips. Gavin pulled her bottom lip delicately between his teeth, nipping it lightly and then letting it slip away again before trailing his tongue slowly and sensuously across it. Fiona felt her heart grow too big for her chest and she struggled to breathe properly. Her brother was kissing her and it felt a thousand times better than she could ever have imagined. ------- Gavin's luck ran out a little just after dinnertime that night. The call to the station came from the duty manager at Tesco's superstore in Glasgow's Bishopbriggs area. One of the younger members of staff had admired the shiny, black Subaru as he had arrived for work at 6:30am. When he noticed that it was still there when he ended his shift, he returned to the store and informed his manager. A police patrol car arrived over an hour later and the uniformed officer radioed the license plate number in to dispatch to have a check run on the vehicle. The check on the Driver and Vehicle License Authority's (DVLA) computer in Swansea, Wales showed that the registered keeper of the vehicle was a John Gibson. There seemed nothing unusual about the vehicle but the dispatcher recognised Gibson's address - 25 Kinfauns Drive - and he alerted the uniforms and at the same time put a call through to DI MacIntosh. When the dispatcher warned the uniformed officer about the address of the registered owner, he walked round the vehicle peering inside to see if there was anything interesting. Seeing nothing, he returned to his patrol car and waited for those higher up to do what was required. Things moved fast once MacIntosh was alerted, this could be the break he was looking for. A forensics team and a recovery truck were sent out immediately. Ironically, the Subaru was winched onto the back of the recovery truck in less time than it had taken the original patrol car to arrive at Tesco's in response to the first call. "Kenny! I want all available personnel reviewing traffic cameras for the past twenty four hours to try and place this car," Drew shouted, "it's a black Subaru, license plate XB07 KBM. Give this everything we've got. If we can get a lead quickly we might be on a hot trail!" ------- Gavin carried Fiona upstairs and laid her gently down on her bed. He covered her over and gently brushed the hair from her face. Bending down, he bussed her lips lovingly once more. "Sleep well my princess," he whispered. Standing up, he made his way to his own room to prepare for another assault on Glasgow's drugs trade. He smiled and felt warm and tingly inside. His sister had been so overcome by a kiss that she had literally fainted, how much of an ego boost was that? "I guess she really does love me a lot!" he told himself. ------- Glen came home from work to find Christine making dinner in the kitchen. "Try and be quiet, honey, Fiona's having a nap upstairs," she said. "Where's Gavin?" he asked. "He left a note to say he was going over to Ronnie's and might be back late," she replied. He wandered into the sitting room and turned on the news, turning the volume down so as not to disturb his sleeping daughter. After a few minutes, the report on the drugs bust in Bearsden came on and he listened to it with interest. It did occur to him that this was just the kind of thing that Gavin could be involved in, but he dismissed it. Gavin had after all gone to bed early the night before. ------- Fiona came awake slowly, her memory of Gavin's kiss almost like a dream. Eventually she realised where she was and her face took on a puzzled look. "You goof! Surely you didn't faint? Oh! My! God! I fainted! One kiss and I'm a basket case. My, but what a kiss!" Her expression changed yet again when she remembered what Gavin had said. He was going out to hit some more drugs dealers that night, despite her pleas to the contrary. She turned her head and saw the red rose on her pillow and beside it a small black box. When she reached her hand out, picked it up and opened it she found an ornate, gold heart-shaped pendant. Her man loved her. She knew it! "Sweet Jesus, please help keep him safe. I don't know what I would do without him, especially now I've experienced just how good his kisses feel. I need to do everything I can to stop him putting himself in danger; I need to safeguard my man! Gavin, consider yourself on notice," she thought to herself. ------- Gavin had taken himself out of the house early. He knew that Fiona would start on him again once she woke up and his words earlier had been true - he felt he needed to take advantage of all the preparation he had undertaken over the past few months, before the gangs adjusted things to get ready for him. He watched the pusher for much longer this time, over three hours. During that time he saw a steady procession of people buying their 'fix'. By 10pm he felt he had seen more than enough and he went for a walk to idle some time away. When he returned at 11pm he watched for another half- hour and then decided it was time he set his plan rolling once more. The first two stages went off without a hitch, almost a carbon copy of the night before. The streets were quite quiet and he was sure he hadn't been observed. The difference came once he had secured his captives in the supply vehicle - this time a Honda CRV, four-wheel drive jeep - and made his way towards the house occupied by the middlemen. This house was not in such a great area of Glasgow and it didn't have a drive-in garage. That was going to make the final stage of Gavin's assault much more tricky and dangerous than the night before. The house was almost a farmhouse on the outskirts of Darnley. It was surrounded by that most horrible of things - a massive hedge of Leylandii. That meant he could approach it easily enough however. Gavin had watched the house off and on over the past weeks and he felt he had found a weak spot he could exploit. One of the occupants of the farmhouse was a heavy smoker and he had observed the man frequently coming to the back door to light up. As they say, smoking can damage your health. The four-wheeled CRV was useful as Gavin could take it off-road and as close as he dared to the towering Leylandii hedge. He grabbed his rucksack and managed to squeeze through the hedge near its base. Gavin stopped to pick up a nearby branch and quickly whittled one end into a sharp point. Moving quickly and with assurance through the dark night, he closed on the house, pulling his ski mask down over his face again as he ran. Gavin flopped down only fifteen yards away from the single storey building. He waited patiently, completely unmoving for ten minutes until he made out the back door opening and saw the tell-tale sign of a cigarette being lit. Five minutes later the butt of the cigarette arced into the garden, as the druggie flicked it away. Gavin gave it a few more minutes to allow the man to make his way deep into the house and then made his next move. His martial arts training ensured he crossed the remaining fifteen feet without making a sound. Moments later he reached the wall of the house and edged along it until he felt the metal downpipe. It was a simple matter to hoist himself up and he silently walked along the roof until he was directly above the back door. The roof was sloped and tiled, coming to an end in an old iron guttering that was about ten feet from the ground. Gavin made himself comfortable and quickly pulled what he would need from his rucksack. First came a telescopic cane and then the little surprise Gavin had prepared earlier. He tied his surprise securely onto the cane and waited. Less than twenty minutes later the heavy smoker emerged from the back door once more. Gavin was poised now, completely relaxed but ready. He could feel that he was 'in the zone' and he enjoyed the way his body was rewarding him with endorphins and adrenaline. Timing here was everything. If the druggie turned and looked up it was possible he might see Gavin. Gavin couldn't worry about that now though. His left hand extended with the cane in it. Hanging from the cane was a common or garden child's balloon. Gavin had half-filled the balloon with petrol using a syringe. For good measure he had then inflated the balloon with butane, ironically from the same kind of refill gas tube that smokers used for their lighters. He moved the balloon carefully; making sure the petrol in the balloon didn't slosh to provide any warning. He let it hover above and just behind the druggie's head, waiting for the key moment. In the gloom he saw the white cigarette placed in the mouth and the man's arm rise with the lighter ready to light up. As the wheel on the lighter spun, as the flint sparked to ignite the butane, as the man used both hands to shield and nurture the flame, Gavin dropped the balloon over his face and stabbed forward with the sharpened stick. The balloon popped, its contents were released and the flame from the lighter ignited the petrol and butane mixture in an incredible mini inferno. The druggie's initial scream was followed by silence, as he gulped for a deep breath and pulled the burning mixture around him into his mouth, throat and lungs. Rudely denied oxygen, he collapsed onto the grass outside the door of the farmhouse. Excess petrol ensured his hair, face and clothing continued to burn, his hair in particular. Gavin turned his head away, not because he didn't have the stomach to watch his handiwork, but to safeguard his night sight. He quickly collapsed the telescopic cane and dropped it into his bag, grabbing instead for the taser and feeling for the Browning at his waist. Moments later the back door burst open and two more men spilled out. This was what Gavin had been waiting for. The taser's wires leapt forward to stun the man on the right and Gavin threw himself from the roof, pulling the Browning out and clubbing the man on the left with the full weight of his descent. He rolled on landing and spun to cover the door in case anyone else emerged. After a few moments it seemed he was safe. Gavin lifted one of the unconscious druggies and used his bulk to dampen the flames on his first victim, denying the flames any further oxygen. He then quickly used tie-wraps to secure the hands of both of the unconscious men before cautiously making his way inside the farmhouse. The job of confirming the house was clear was quick, as there were only a few rooms in the single storey farmhouse. Gavin turned his attention to the dead pusher and the two unconscious druggies in the CRV. He now had the luxury of being able to drive the jeep up to the house so he could unload them. He moved the bodies quickly inside and once more grabbed the gaffer tape to effectively silence the two druggies he had most recently stunned at the back door. His next job was to quickly search the house for drugs, guns and money. He turned up another bag full of cash and the drugs were quite obvious. Frisking the unconscious druggies turned up several handguns; not Brownings but he took them anyway. Gavin had once more prepared a short note on a piece of paper and he took the opportunity again of leaving his calling card. ------- Fiona felt herself shaken awake and felt a hand over her mouth again. "I need your help again, sis" Gavin whispered. ------- Glen heard the outside door opening and relaxed a little knowing that Gavin was now home. He glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was after 2am. "I'll need to have a word with that boy tomorrow. He shouldn't be out this late," he thought. Turning over, he prepared to let himself sleep now that he could quit worrying about where Gavin was. He was on the point of dropping off when the snick of the front door intruded on his consciousness. His head snapped up and he distinctly heard the door close again. Getting up quickly, he flicked the curtains aside to see Gavin and Fiona walking down the street. ------- Gavin and Fiona returned to the house having made a disguised call to the police to lead them to the farmhouse in Darnley. Fiona stood in the hall as Gavin closed and locked the door behind them. Suddenly the hall light came on and they both turned to find Glen waiting for them, a dressing gown hastily thrown over his pyjamas. "Where the hell have you two been?" Glen demanded, "it's after 2 O'clock in the morning for goodness sake." "Err, we just had to pop out for a few minutes, dad," Gavin replied. "Pop out to do what? If you have started to involve your sister in your crazy schemes I'm here to tell you I won't stand for it buster! Not for one minute. Is that clear?" Glen shouted. The noise inevitably woke Christine and she shuffled sleepily to the top of the stairs, looking down at her family gathered in the hall. "What are you all doing up? What's all the shouting for, honey?" she asked. "A good question. We're up because I heard him coming home after 2am and then leaving again with her!" Glen's words were punctuated by his finger stabbing first in Gavin's direction and then Fiona's. "Gavin dear, what's going on?" Christine asked, coming down the stairs now. "Nothing, mom. I just needed Fiona to make a phone call I couldn't make myself," Gavin replied. "There, dear. They were just making a phone call, no need to get so excited. Now, can we all get back to bed please?" asked Christine. Glen wasn't happy about the explanation - he didn't think Gavin would lie to him, but he would have liked to press a little more to find out what the phone call had been about and who it had been to. Christine took his arm and pulled him firmly up the stairs however, and he had to content himself with one last suspicious look over his shoulder at his son. ------- Chapter 9: First sight DI Drew MacIntosh rubbed his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension that had built up. A copper for twelve years already, Drew thought had seen just about everything there was to see in Glasgow's underworld. The cases he was trying to solve now were something else however, and they continued to mount up. He had been given access to the four men who had been found tied-up in the house in Kinfauns Drive, but as he suspected they had clammed-up and had their solicitors at the station in record time. At least they would all be charged with drug offences so Drew knew he would have the last laugh. At least an early read-out from forensics had given him confirmation that it had been the vigilante who had hit the house. A note had been recovered from the mouth of the dead man, along with some small bags of drugs. He looked at the report one more time and read the words that had been included in the message. Keep Glasgow's streets clean. Really say no to drugs and say no to drug dealers. The vigilante. Drew felt it was somewhat ironic that he had got more from the mouth of a dead man than he had from the mouths of the four survivors. The crime count for this 'vigilante' was mounting. Three dead at the Portcullis, two dead outside Gilchrist's house, William Lorimer dead in Cranhill Street and now one more dead in Bearsden along with four others violently assaulted. "The bastard's a one man crime wave!" Drew thought to himself. So far the review of traffic camera footage had not provided any leads but Drew still had twenty officers on the task. His view was the longer things went without a lead the more difficult it would become, so he was desperate for something to break. He was no stranger to hard times - both at work and in his personal life. He had joined the force after serving in the British army for six years. Having been demoted twice already in his twelve years on the force, for his unorthodox methods (brutally beating suspects), he didn't expect another promotion anytime soon. A short marriage - lasting five years - had ended in a very messy divorce. The divorce had left him only limited access to his two kids - one of each - and took a serious chunk out of his monthly paycheque. One thing kept him going though - he lived for his job. He took great satisfaction out of beating the criminals, tracking them down and putting them away. Drew had no understanding in him for what this vigilante was doing. So far as he was concerned the guy was another criminal - a particularly dangerous one if the body count was anything to go by. MacIntosh saw the crimes the vigilante had committed as almost like a personal challenge to himself and he meant to win in this contest. That competitive nature, that desire to beat the criminals had kept him on duty for ninety hours per week on average for the past few months. The lack of sleep showed, but Drew knew he would get his reward eventually and so was happy to put in the hours. At 38 he was struggling against the spreading gut of middle age but his mind was as agile as ever and it was that that he was pitting against the criminals. It was now after 2am and he was thinking about catching a few hours sleep on his cot, but before he could reach it, the phone on his desk rang and he picked it up. "Drew, looks like I've got another one for you. We've just received an anonymous tip-off. The caller said it was a message from the vigilante and that we should go and check out Reardon's Farm in Darnley." All thoughts of a few hours sleep disappeared and Drew instantly became more alert. "Thanks for the heads-up, I'm on my way. Can you make sure dispatch has directions for me?" he asked. "Will do," the voice on the other end of the line confirmed. MacIntosh broke the connection and then dialled a number himself. He listened to the phone ringing out for quite a while before it was eventually answered. "This had better be good!" came the sleepy voice of Kenny MacLean. "Time to rise and shine, Kenny. It looks like our boy has been busy again tonight. Get ready and I'll swing by to pick you up in fifteen minutes," Drew said. "Fuck! We have got to catch this guy, Drew. He's seriously denting my sleeping hours. This is getting personal man!" Drew laughed as he hung up and grabbed his coat on the way out of his office and out to his unmarked car in the station car park. MacLean was already waiting outside his house when Drew got there and he quickly opened the passenger door and climbed in. "What have we got?" he asked Drew. "By the sounds of it, something similar to last night. There was an anonymous call just after 2am telling us to check out Reardon's Farm in Darnley. Some of the local uniforms are already at the scene but there's nothing obvious and I've ordered them to keep back until we get there," Drew replied. The directions Drew had received were surprisingly straightforward. He joined the M8 motorway and then took the slip road that took him onto the M77. Fifteen minutes later he took the exit for Darnley and a few minutes after that he was pulling up beside three marked police patrol cars. Both detectives got out of the car and talked to the uniformed officer who had arrived on the scene first. It quickly became clear that Drew's orders had been followed to the letter and no one could give them a clue as to what they were going to find inside the farmhouse. Drew climbed back into his Ford Mondeo and radioed to find out the ETA of the scene of crime team. The advice he received was that it was still half an hour away, having already been out at another scene that night. "Half an hour until the forensics bods get here," he said to MacLean, "I suggest you take a careful walk around the outside while I have a look inside. We need to get a feel for what we're dealing with here." "Okay," replied DI MacLean. "Kenny, be careful," Drew added. Both of them pulled on gloves and MacLean retrieved a powerful torch from the trunk of the Mondeo. Drew made for the farmhouse's front door while Kenny walked slowly around the building in a clockwise direction, shining the torch before him to ensure he didn't contaminate any evidence. MacIntosh bent to pull two plastic 'slippers' over his shoes before stepping into the house. The lights had been left on so he didn't need to worry about possibly spoiling any prints on the lightswitch. He walked close to the walls as he made his way down the hallway towards a partially open door. Stepping cautiously through the door, Drew immediately took in the two men who were secured and lying on the floor. A third man was unsecured and by the looks of him, dead. A significant quantity of drugs was also laid out and he guessed he had a carbon copy of the hit that had gone down the night before. Retracing his steps he made his way towards the back of the house. He stopped when he heard coughing sounds coming from the far end of the hallway, then realised they were coming from outside. Moving forward somewhat quicker now, he opened the door in front of him to see Kenny MacLean leaning against the side of the house, vomiting onto the ground. The light spilling from the door illuminated the scene outside and Drew could see what had affected his partner so badly. There were two more men tied up and taped, one partially lying across what was an obvious corpse. The corpse wasn't tied-up in anyway so far as he could see, which suggested that he had died quickly. The head was a blackened ruin and Drew knew immediately that the man had literally burned to death. Closer scrutiny showed signs of burn marks on the clothing of the man who was lying on top of the stiff. Drew wondered what that meant, what had happened here. "Kenny, I told you not to contaminate the scene. What are you, a rookie or something?" Drew asked. Leaning up against the farmhouse with his head still bowed, MacLean managed to lift one hand and give Drew the finger in reply. ------- Gavin was able to get to sleep without difficulty, once again his conscience not troubling him despite what he had done. For Fiona it was a different matter. She tossed and turned, worrying about what her brother was doing and most of all worrying about his safety. It was over an hour before she dropped-off into a fitful sleep. ------- When the forensics team arrived at the farmhouse they took the decision to focus their efforts initially on the inside, leaving the outside until it grew light. A tent was stretched over the unconscious men and the body to protect any evidence in the event it rained - a frequent occurrence in Scotland. Drew was taking a break, sitting in the Mondeo drinking a cup of coffee supplied from the thermos of one of the uniforms. The radio crackled to life and he reached over to grab the handset. Seconds later he was out of the car and shouting for MacLean. "Kenny! Kenny! We need to head back to the station pronto!" DI MacLean had recovered from heaving his guts up, but still looked a little pale. He quickly joined Drew and the Mondeo roared as it raced away from the scene. "There's been a development on the Subaru," Drew explained once they were on their way. "One of the tapes shows it mobile on Byres Road." "At last, some bloody luck on this case!" MacLean responded. Both of them knew that this was a bit of luck. Drew had ordered the examination of the traffic tapes to start from the city centre and work outwards. His reasoning was that if the car had been involved in drug selling - then it would have to be where the marketplace was, where the demand was greatest. His reasoning seemed to have been sound. There was a definite buzz in the air when they entered the room in the station that had been set up to examine the tapes. In the half-hour it had taken them to get back to Stewart Street, further tapes had been found that showed the Subaru. The excitement reached Drew and Kenny as they were shown the tapes already identified. "Looks like two men," Kenny said as they watched the first tape. "I'm betting that they match two of those from Kinfauns Drive," Drew pitched in. "Fuckin' hell!" came an excited shout from further over in the room. "What?" Drew and Kenny asked in unison. "You've got to see this to believe it!" exclaimed an officer who was reviewing another tape. A crowd of officers crowded round the desk and Drew and Kenny had to force their way through to be able to see what had got the officer so excited. "Watch this, fuck me, watch this!" the officer exclaimed again as he rewound the tape and hit the play button. All of them watched as the grainy footage from the traffic camera showed light traffic flowing along Byres Road. "Here it comes," said the officer. They could all make out the Subaru on the screen and watched as it pulled over to the kerb, against the direction of traffic. Suddenly a figure could be seen approaching the car and then leaping into the back seat. Just as quickly the figure was back out and it dashed to the driver's door. The trunk on the Subaru popped open and the figure appeared again, running to a shop doorway and then back to drop something into the trunk. The whole scene had taken seconds and they then watched as the car pulled away and was eventually out of range of the camera. "What just happened?" asked one of the crowd of officers. "I'm not sure but there were two men in the car when it pulled up and it looks like he took them both out in a couple of seconds," someone said. "Play it again," ordered Drew. He was sure that he had just had his first glimpse of the vigilante, his first glimpse of his target. "Come to daddy!" he thought, a grin reaching his face. Drew marked the time on his watch as the Subaru pulled over to the kerb on the screen once more. It was no easier to make out what had happened even on the second viewing, but Drew was able to say it had taken exactly 18 seconds from the figure appearing from the shop doorway to the car driving off. "Okay. It's too grainy and there's not enough light to make it all out. Get this enhanced as quickly as possible," Drew ordered. "You. Work backward on the tapes from this camera. It looked like he came from that shop doorway, I want the tape that shows him going into it." Drew was prepared to wait a while for the next sequence to be found, but it turned out it was on the very next tape - only fifteen minutes before the Subaru had pulled over to the kerb according to the time signature on the tape. Once again officers crowded round the desk to watch the sequence. A figure could be seen ducking in and out of the shop doorway and then another figure approached. The second figure looked as if it might be a drunk, but as it came level with the doorway it suddenly leapt to the side. Gone were the drunken stagger and the lack of coordination. One second the figure was shuffling along and the next it disappeared into the doorway. "I'm guessing we've just watched a murder," said Drew, "I want that shop doorway isolated and a forensics team in there as quickly as possible." Drew stayed another hour, hoping they would be able to pick up the Subaru's trail all the way to Kinfauns Drive. His luck ran out, as there weren't as many cameras once the trail led away from the city centre. Still, it now looked as if he had some answers. There had been two men in the Subaru and one in the shop doorway. He guessed that the Subaru had been necessary to gain easy access to the house itself. "Yes, it's all starting to come together. I'm getting closer to him and the evidence is mounting up." Drew thought. ------- Gavin was up bright and early, feeling rested despite the late night. He made sure that Glen and Christine had left and then took the time to count the cash he had taken from the farmhouse. He found he had close to another thirty-two thousand pounds. "I don't know what I'm going to do with all this cash, nowadays banks report any suspicious deposits to the police. I'll need to think of something, some way of laundering the money so I can use it to bankroll more work." He made his way downstairs and made some toast, poached eggs and a cup of tea before sitting himself down in front of the TV. The news channels had been quicker to pick up the story this time and there were already reports of another big drugs bust in Glasgow. " ... speculation is rife that the police raid on the house in Bearsden turned up information that led them to this farmhouse in Darnley. Strathclyde Police have confirmed that another large quantity of drugs has been recovered at this scene, almost as much as that recovered yesterday." "Candice, is there anything further on the reports of fatalities at the Bearsden site and is there any news about arrests at this new site?" "Sally, a police spokesman has just confirmed that there was one fatality at Kinfauns Drive yesterday and four arrests. What hasn't been made clear is whether the dead man was killed by police officers and I asked a direct question on that. The answer I got leaves me none the wiser I'm afraid so it would seem that there are still further revelations to come out. I was told that there will be no information given out today about arrests here in Darnley. The police seem to playing these incidents very close to their chest, Sally." Gavin was puzzled as he listened to the report. There had been no mention of the involvement of anyone other than the police in the raids. He hadn't thought anything of it the day before, but now it appeared to him as if the police were deliberately keeping the vigilante's presence a secret. He wondered why that might be. Fiona made her appearance just as the report from Darnley finished, but Gavin knew it would be repeated again within the hour - that seemed to be the way these news channels worked. He offered to make her something to eat and she gladly accepted. When the story was eventually repeated Fiona also spotted the absence of any mention of the vigilante and she commented on it. Gavin had his head buried in a newspaper. "Gavin, why is nobody saying anything about the fact that this was nothing to do with the police, that it was all down to you?" she asked. He put the paper down. "I don't know, Fi. I was thinking about that myself. Perhaps it's just the police trying to make themselves look good," Gavin replied. "What are you reading?" she asked. "There's been another rape," Gavin replied, picking up the newspaper again. Fiona shivered when she saw the look that flashed momentarily in her brother's eyes. ------- Darnley was on the Southside of Glasgow and therefore in Rab 'the tram' Cullen's patch. The Cullen clan became concerned when they couldn't raise either 'Bobo' Baldwin in the farmhouse or Scott 'Singy' Singleton in the supply jeep. A drive-by confirmed a significant police presence at the farmhouse and Cullen assumed the worst. His fears were all but confirmed when the news channels began reporting a police swoop at the farm. Cullen summoned Fraser Gilchrist, as his anger began to reach boiling point. When Fraser arrived and saw Rab's mood he was immediately cautious. His driver had already updated him on the probability that the farmhouse had been hit and he guessed that that was the source of Cullen's anger. "It's fucking him again, isn't it?" Cullen shouted at Fraser as soon as he appeared. "If you mean - 'it looks like the vigilante has hit the farmhouse' - then yes, you're probably right," Fraser replied. "Don't get fucking smart with me Gilchrist! I thought you were supposed to be tracking him down? Isn't that why you got the heads of all the clans together? Well, where's the fucking results?" Cullen snarled. "Rab, I'm not a miracle worker. No one has seen or heard anything about this character. Even our contacts in the police can't give us any clues," said Fraser. "Maybe it's time I got a wee bit more hands on in finding this bastard. Maybe we need to try and turn the heat up under the fucker so we force him to make a mistake. How would he react to some negative press coverage? I could use the tame journalist," said Cullen. The journalist in question had gotten himself deeply into debt by buying more and more cocaine. Rather than see him go under, Cullen had paid of his debts thinking that a journalist might be useful at some point. "No! That's not a good idea, Rab. That's the last thing we should be doing. Why do you think the police haven't mentioned the involvement of a vigilante in the hits and now this with the drugs houses?" Fraser replied. Cullen moved quickly. His arm flashed out and Fraser felt a stinging sensation on his left cheek. He looked down and saw the box cutter in Cullen's hand. "You don't tell me what to do! I'm the fucking boss around here!" screamed Cullen. Fraser raised his hand to his cheek and it came away covered in blood. He could feel blood running down his neck now too and knew the cut was bad. "Go get that fixed and then get fucking back here." Cullen ordered. ------- DI MacIntosh hadn't gone home, but had managed the few hours sleep on the cot in his office he had promised himself. He shook himself awake and made a cup of strong coffee to try and get his brain and body functioning again. Looking at his in-tray, it appeared as if several reports had been delivered while he had been in the land of nod and he sat himself down with the coffee to go through them. The first report was from forensics and it covered the house in Bearsden. There had been plenty of prints to lift, but all of them matched three of the men who had been found trussed up. There was nothing that might give a lead on the vigilante. From what he knew, Drew guessed that two of the druggies had been based in the house. That tallied with the footage they had that put two others in the Subaru and one on the street. The third set of prints in the house suggested that one of the occupants of the Subaru must have entered the house to get the supplies of drugs they needed. The report informed Drew that two of the men had marks on their bodies consistent with those made by a stun gun. "Well that tells me something. He's apparently using a taser." Drew thought. The other two unconscious men had been taken down with good old-fashioned blows to the head according to medical examinations. The cause of death for the fifth man was given as a broken neck and the report suggested that this wasn't as the result of an accident or a blow as there was no obvious trauma to the skin of the victim. The best guess from the medical examiner was that the man's head had been twisted so violently that the neck had been broken and the spinal cord severed. "What kind of guy knows how to do that and has the strength to carry it out? All very interesting but how does it help me find this prick?" Drew asked himself. The next report was on the examination of the Subaru. Minute traces of a number of drugs had been identified; confirming the car had been used by drug pushers. Some prints had been found inside the vehicle and these had been matched to two of the men arrested. Drew noted that his guess seemed to be correct as one of the sets of prints also matched prints taken from inside the house in Bearsden. Prints on the outside of the vehicle matched the same two men but also the dead man. Again it seemed there was nothing here to give him a lead on the vigilante's identity. The report did say that fibre samples had been recovered from the upholstery of the Subaru. Some had been matched to the clothing worn by the men in custody but others didn't. It was possible that these unmatched samples could be important later if Drew could come up with a suspect. The final detail of any note was that a remote control device had been found in the car - possibly for controlling a garage door. The final document wasn't a report as such but rather an early take on the findings at Reardon's Farm. This time there were two fatalities and four men rendered unconscious and then tied-up. Another note had been found at the scene - once again inside the mouth of one of the dead men - and the message was included. Let Glasgow flourish, kill a dealer a day. The vigilante. Drew knew the words 'Let Glasgow flourish' were actually the city's motto from its coat of arms. It seemed that the vigilante had a little humour about him. Drew wasn't smiling. ------- Technicians had worked hard through the early hours and throughout the morning on the traffic camera footage. By lunchtime they had something to show DI MacIntosh and Drew received a call to let him know. He made his way over to the techies' lab and took a seat to see what they had come up with. The footage had been enhanced, the resolution improved and the techies had even managed to zoom in on the relevant sections. The different bits had been spliced together. Drew watched the footage again, asking for it to be stopped at various parts and for additional zoom on some frames. It was clear that the vigilante was aware of the camera. At no time was there a view of his face on the tape as he took out the lone pusher. With the benefit of the reports he had just read, Drew was better able to understand what he was seeing. As the figure on the screen lurched sideways into the shop doorway, Drew provided a commentary. "That's him breaking the pusher's neck," he said. Drew asked for the tape to be slowed and the zoom to close in on the figure, as it stepped from the shop doorway. He could clearly see the figure raising a hand and realised that he was somehow signalling the Subaru. "It looks as though he's signalling the car - somehow he's learned their signals," Drew commented. Again the footage was slowed as it showed the figure approaching the car. Even slowed down events moved incredibly quickly. The figure's right hand came up and then he was leaping forward at the now open car window. "My guess is that he's just used a taser to immobilise the driver and then slammed the passenger in the head." As the figure raced round the car, Drew again called for the frame to be frozen and the zoom maximised. This was the first time the figure had been facing the camera directly. Although still grainy, they could see that the figure was wearing a ski mask. "Bastard!" cried Drew. He had thought for a fraction of a second that the vigilante had made his mistake. Seeing the ski mask had been a huge disappointment. Believing he had seen all there was to see, Drew walked back to his office and sat down. The evidence was piling up and once he caught his man he was sure he could make it all stick. He now had a clear idea of how the hits on the drug houses had been carried out. The vigilante must have spent quite a bit of time watching the drugs operations and his plan had worked a treat. Take out the pusher, ambush the supply car and then use it to gain entrance to the house. "Smart. My boy is clever and he spends time on good preparation. He's also incredibly quick and doesn't hesitate to use extreme violence when he needs to. At the end of the day he's a violent criminal though and I'm getting closer. Soon, I can feel it. Soon he'll give me my chance. He's getting too cocky." ------- Chapter 10: The debutante Cullen had received all of the details of the police investigations into the vigilante's activities so far. With several policemen on his payroll, he didn't have to work too hard to get it. He had everything, even the wording on the notes that had been found in the mouths of the dead pushers. The full extent of the vigilante's work was quite staggering - even to a hardened criminal like Rab. The gangster recognised and respected strength, but business was business and the vigilante was hurting his cash flow. Rab had just finished a meeting with his tame journalist where he had passed on all of the details. "Remember, you have to write this to show him as a coward, a low-life. I want to get him angry, flush him out so that he makes a mistake and I can get rid of the bastard," he said. "I'll need to do a little work to verify what I can. This is so sensational that my editor won't run it without something to back it up," the journalist replied. "Fine, you do what you have to but I want to see that story running today or tomorrow," Cullen ordered. The journalist had some contacts of his own within the police force and didn't take long to make some calls. Armed with the details supplied by Cullen, he was able to get his contacts to confirm that what he had was accurate. He couldn't believe his luck, this was an incredible exclusive and his editor would be over the moon. Locking himself in his office, the journalist began writing his article, keeping in mind what Cullen wanted from him. ------- Drew was in his office reading through the detailed forensic report from Reardon's Farm. It started with what had been found inside. The dead man had a broken neck, exactly like the dead druggie in Bearsden. His mouth had contained a small quantity of drugs and the note from the vigilante - again a carbon copy of the first hit. Fingerprints had been matched to a number of the druggies that had been arrested or who had been found dead but none that couldn't be matched. So, the vigilante had been careful once more. Outside the farmhouse, the report provided a frightening insight into what had happened. Tracks had been found from a four-wheel drive vehicle leading up to the huge hedge that surrounded the property. Scuffmarks had been identified that suggested where the property had been breached and some fibres had been recovered from the Leylandii. Wood shavings had also been found just inside the boundary fence and they matched a sharpened stick found outside the backdoor of the farm. The dead druggie had indeed burned to death. An autopsy officially gave the cause of death as asphyxiation - lack of oxygen - and explained this by setting out how the man had breathed in a mixture of burning petrol and butane. The degree of scorching in his mouth, throat and lungs would have led to his death anyway, but the flames had consumed the available oxygen and mercifully killed him before he suffered the pain of his terrible injuries. A cigarette lighter and a charred cigarette stub had been recovered. Numerous other cigarette butts had been found littering the area to the left of the farm's door. Small traces of burnt rubber had been found around the body, some as much as ten feet away. A sharpened stick had been found lying on the ground and its tip was covered in faint traces of petrol and rubber. Drag marks on the ground were consistent with the unconscious body of the druggie with charred clothes being dragged and then dropped on the dead man. The report couldn't be certain why this had been done but its author suggested the unconscious man had been used to douse the flames on the corpse. One of the unconscious men outside the farm had marks on his body consistent with having been hit by a stun gun. The other had a wound on the back of his head suggesting he had been hit with some force by a blunt object. The angle of this blow had taken the forensic team back to the farm where marks were found on the roof directly above the back door. The report ended by suggesting that the dead man had been set on fire. The evidence pointed to someone hiding on the roof of the farmhouse with a rubber container filled with petrol and butane. The container had been burst using the sharpened stick, probably as the deceased was lighting a cigarette. That explained the lighter, the charred butt, the small particles of rubber and the particles on the tip of the stick. A balloon was suggested as the container, the force of it being burst explaining the distance some particles of rubber had travelled away from the body. Drew looked up as the door to his office burst open and DI Kenny MacLean barged in. "Have you seen this?" Kenny demanded. He threw a copy of Glasgow's evening newspaper, the Evening Times, down onto Drew's desk. The banner headline on the tabloid paper yelled at Drew. TIMES EXCLUSIVE DRUGS RAIDS: THE TRUTH! Drew snatched up the paper and began to read the front-page story. The Evening Tines can exclusively reveal the sensational truth behind two major drugs hauls in Bearsden and Darnley over the past two days. Strathclyde police have been content to claim all of the credit for the seizure of large quantities of heroin, cocaine, amphetamines and cannabis. Our readers will be surprised therefore to learn that the credit for exposing the drug dens is actually down to a vigilante who has been active across the city in the past few months. Sources close to the police today confirmed that this vigilante is suspected of the sneak attack on the Portcullis pub, the cowardly murder of two men outside the house of Mr Fraser Gilchrist and the callous shooting of William Lorimer who was in a drug induced stupor at the time. In these latest vigilante attacks more murders have been carried out. In the Bearsden incident a defenceless 17-year old youth, barely out of school, had his neck broken. Drugs and a Vietnam style 'calling card' message were left stuffed in the victim's mouth. Today the Times has learned that that message reads - 'Keep Glasgow's streets clean. Really say no to drugs and say no to drug dealers. The vigilante.' The four men 'arrested' by the police we now know were actually tied up and left waiting for them to respond to an anonymous tip-off from the vigilante himself. At the Darnley site, two bodies were recovered; one of them killed in an horrendous method reminiscent of a Vietnam napalm assault. We understand that the man's head and lungs were literally burned to a crisp. Four further 'arrests' were made by police, but again these men were tied up and only another anonymous call from the vigilante led the police to the scene. A second note was viciously jammed into the mouth of one of the dead bodies. The Times can reveal that this note reads - 'Let Glasgow Flourish, kill a dealer a day. The vigilante'. As far as we are aware the police have no leads on who this vicious and cowardly vigilante is. Instead of putting all their efforts into catching him and making Glasgow safer, they seem content to let the killer dispense his own form of rough justice while they sit around and take the credit for non-existent drug hauls. The Times knows that the good people of Glasgow won't stand for this. The vast majority of us wouldn't think about taking the law into our own hands and certainly not in such a cowardly way. Today we demand that our police forces do more to protect us. Catch this killer, catch him quickly! Editorial page 16 Drew threw the newspaper across the room and slammed both hands down violently on his desk. "Bastards! Who leaked? Who fucking leaked?" he screamed. ------- Fraser was in the back of one of the Cullen clan's cars being driven home from the hospital. The medical staff had found it difficult to stitch up his wound and had informed him to expect a significant scar. The Accident and Emergency consultant had even spoken to him about the possibility of cosmetic surgery, but he had waved it off. As the car drew up to a set of traffic lights, Fraser spotted a street vendor selling the evening newspaper. As was normal for these guys, a series of posters highlighting the headlines were displayed around his stand. Fraser's face paled as he read one of the posters. GLASGOW VIGILANTE ON THE LOOSE "The bastard couldn't take a telling, he always knows best," Fraser said to himself quietly. ------- "Gavin! Gavin! Get your arse down here. Now!" shouted Glen Anderson. Gavin heard the anger and knew something was very wrong. He pulled himself off of his bed and trudged downstairs. Fiona was close behind him and Christine had emerged from the kitchen when she heard her husband's loud shout. "What's wrong, dear? Why are you shouting?" Christine asked, concerned. "Why don't you ask your son?" Glen replied hotly. Christine looked at Gavin and he shrugged as if to say he didn't know what was going on. "You couldn't control yourself, could you? You couldn't keep your promise!" growled Glen. "Glen, what are you talking about!" demanded Christine. Glen threw the evening newspaper onto the dining table. "Your son here has managed to kill another three men in the last two days apparently, despite promising us he wouldn't do this anymore. One of those he killed was a defenceless boy and another one he set on fire and literally burned him to death. "He's no better than the criminals he claims to hate. According to this he has killed nine people in the past few months. He's got what he wanted - he's the debutante paraded in front of his public. Your son is a monster! And just as I suspected, he's now drawing our daughter into his grubby little world! I won't have it; I will not have it! Do you hear? I want him out of the house now!" Gavin picked the paper up first and began to read the front-page article. He cringed at the way it described what he had done and could see his father had lapped up every twisted detail. "Dad, I can see that you've already made your mind up about what I've done so I'm not going to try and argue with you. I will only say this. Last night I took on six hardened criminals single-handedly. The night before I took on five, again on my own. I needed every advantage I could get. The result is that eleven people who have been peddling drugs and misery on the streets of Glasgow are now out of the picture. Two of the biggest ever seizures of drugs also go down as a plus. "Fiona's involvement has been absolutely marginal and I took steps to protect her. But you're right, I've made a mistake and shouldn't have gotten her involved at all. I was wrong. I'll go and pack my bags." Christine's hands flew to her mouth. Fiona collapsed in tears on the sofa. Gavin straightened his shoulders as he turned and climbed the stairs. "Glen, this isn't the way to deal with this," cried Christine, "you can't throw our son out on the streets! Let's talk about this." Glen himself had vented most of his anger and knew that he had gone further than he intended. With the characteristic male stiff-neck, he felt that he couldn't back down now that he had said what he had, he wouldn't take it back. Christine continued to try and work on him. "Let's leave it tonight and talk about it as a family tomorrow. Things are too raw just now, let's give them a chance to settle," she suggested. Glen saw an opportunity to back down gracefully and simply nodded his agreement. Christine immediately rushed upstairs to stop her son from packing his bags. "Gavin, stop. Your father is angry, he needs some time to calm down and think things through. He's agreed that we should all take some time to think about things and then have a family discussion tomorrow night. Please don't make things worse," Gavin tried to smile and he stopped what he was doing and hugged his mother. "Mom, dad's right to an extent. I really do think I should move out, but I'll wait for the family discussion if that's what you want." ------- Fate was working against Gavin for once and he was about to experience the sweet and sour of life. He sat in his room and pulled his rucksack towards himself. He slowly went through the contents, holding them, thinking about how he had used them. At last his frustration at his father's outburst got to him and he stood, desperate to get out of the house for a while. Making his way downstairs, he realised he had the ski mask still in his hands. He stuffed it into his pocket and called out that he was going out for some fresh air. Once outside, his anger and frustration consumed him and he started to run. Conscious thought escaped Gavin as he ran and he was fortunate that drivers were more alert than he was or he would probably have been run over several times! Thirty minutes later consciousness returned and Gavin was stunned to find himself running through Kelvingrove Park, the same place he had picked up the Browning handgun some months before. He slowed his pace and tried to control his breathing as he looked around to try and identify exactly where he was. It was easy to identify the River Kelvin on his right as he ran along the path. The lighting was mellow and subdued from the lamps lining the path, but more than good enough to see where he was going. He realised there was no need to be running and slowed to a stop, pleased to find he wasn't too badly out of breath. A scream rang out, the scream of a female and Gavin was suddenly on full alert. It had sounded as if it had come from his right, on the other side of the river. Gavin began to move forward again quickly. Fifty yards further on he came across an ornate stone bridge that crossed the river. Gavin raced across it and headed for where he thought the scream had come from. A second scream ringing out helped to direct him and he increased his speed again, heading up the path. Sprinting round a bend in the path, Gavin saw a man sitting on top of a struggling woman. They were on the grass just to the side of the path and as he got closer he was puzzled when the woman's legs stopped kicking and her body grew rigid. He remembered the ski mask in his pocket and pulled it out as he slowed his run. Gavin made no sound as he approached, his martial arts training kicking in. The ski mask went on his head and he pulled it down to cover his face. When he was perhaps twelve feet away he saw why the woman had stopped struggling - the man sitting on her chest held a wicked looking blade to her throat. Gavin could now see the man had a pair of woman's hose over his head to mask his features and he could even make out what he was saying to his intended victim. "Stop it! Stop fighting me or I'll fucking cut you. Just relax, you might enjoy it, I know I will. You want it really don't you? You want this! How often have you rubbed yourself while you've fantasised about being taken like this? Yea, being taken, raped - it gets you off doesn't it! Admit it you slut. Now lie still." The man was his own worst enemy, talking too much and wasting time. His delay gave Gavin the time to reach him before he did too much harm to the woman. The woman was almost going into shock, about to shut down, when she saw another masked figure's face appear over the shoulder of the man who was sitting on her, the man who had the knife at her throat. "Oh god! There's more than one of them. Please lord, don't let this happen, don't let them do this to me. Please, Lord, please. Oh god, oh god, no, oh god, please, Lord, please! Don't let them rape me!" she thought, as urine began to leak from between her legs. She watched in fascination as an arm shot out and locked onto the wrist that was holding the knife to her throat. The knife was suddenly gone and she distinctly heard the sound of bones cracking and her attacker screaming. Gavin wasted no more time. He grabbed the attacker's wrist and pulled the arm away from the woman. Once he was satisfied the knife was clear, he viciously twisted the wrist at an unnatural angle until he heard bones cracking. The knife fell to the grass as the man screamed. Gavin straightened his right hand and swept it down with all his strength, down onto the neck of his opponent. The man went limp and Gavin dragged him off of the woman and into the bushes that lined the path on his left. Gavin's senses were in battle mode, on super alert fuelled by pure adrenaline. He looked at the woman more closely now and saw that she was no more than a girl really, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. She had shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes, eyes that had a look of panic in them still. Her skirt was muddy, her bag lay on the grass, one shoe was off and he also noticed that her blouse was torn. He quickly pulled the jacket off of the unconscious would-be rapist and approached her. "Are you hurt, miss?" he asked quietly. "Don't touch me, please don't touch me. Just let me go," she moaned, crabbing away from his approach. Gavin stopped moving to try and reassure her. "Miss, he won't hurt you again. I've taken care of that. Now I need to make sure you're okay." "Who are you? Where did you come from?" she asked. "Why, I'm the vigilante of course, wandering the streets of Glasgow to make sure fair maidens and damsels in distress like yourself are safe," he replied, a grin breaking out on his face. She saw the smile in the ski mask, saw the deep blue eyes that seemed to reflect the smile too and she pulled herself to her feet. "Do they have to be beautiful? She asked. "No, of course not, but it is a bit of a bonus for me if they are," he laughed. Once upright, she stood with her shoulders slumped and her body began to shake in reaction to the attack on her. Gavin moved forward slowly. "Here, you need to put this on. It's possible you're suffering from shock and besides, your modesty demands it." She glanced down and took in the fact that her blouse was ripped open, exposing her pale lilac bra. Quickly flicking her eyes back up to watch him, she noticed that he was at pains to keep his eyes on her face, not allowing himself to stare at her exposed chest. She nodded to let him know that it was okay to give her the jacket that he was holding out. "What's your name fair maiden?" he asked. "Lizzie," she replied, answering him without thinking. Gavin closed the last few feet between them and helped her put the jacket on. He gently put his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. Lizzie felt the strength in his arms, the arms that had rescued her from the rapist and despite her remaining fear she felt comfort and security in the hug. She let her head nestle into his chest and began to cry. "Shhh. It's okay. You're safe now beautiful Lizzie. Your safe and he's not going to hurt you, I promise." Gavin pulled back from the hug and bent to retrieve the shoe that the girl had lost. He gently took her foot and wiped it clean before putting her shoe on for her. "Now, we need to get you home safely. You shouldn't really be walking alone in the park after dark," he said. Lizzie was still dazed, but she knew that she already missed the security she had felt moments before in his arms. "I work in the student's bar, I was on my way home," she told him, as if trying to explain herself. "Here, take this and let's go see if we can find you a taxi to get you the rest of the way home." Gavin still had the small roll of bank notes he had taken from the pockets of the pusher and he now peeled off two twenty pound notes and pressed them into Lizzie's hand. He put an arm round her to support her and urged her gently along the path towards the exit from the park. The exit led directly onto Glasgow's Sauchiehall Street, one of the busiest in the city and Gavin knew she would be able to flag down a taxi quickly. "I'll have to stay out of sight, Lizzie, but I'll stay here until I'm sure you're in a taxi and safe. Okay?" She nodded to show she understood and took the last few steps out of the park gate on her own, continually looking back to make sure he was still there. "Thank you, thank you Mr Vigilante," she said. It was only a few minutes before one of Glasgow's hundreds of black cabs cruised by and Lizzie raised her hand to signal it. She pulled the borrowed jacket tightly around herself and as she climbed into the back of the cab, she saw the shadowy figure wave farewell. ------- Lizzie Houston paid the taxi driver with the money her masked saviour had given her. She staggered slightly up the drive of the family home but found her hands were shaking so much she couldn't get her key in the lock of the door. Mary Houston heard the rattling of keys and assumed correctly that her daughter was home from her bar job. She got up from the sofa and made her way to the front door, opening it to find her daughter fumbling with her keys. With a mother's instincts, Mary could tell immediately that something was wrong. "Lizzie! What is it darling? What's wrong?" Her daughter looked up and began to cry a flood of tears. Mary pulled her into a hug and ushered her indoors, pulling the door closed behind her. "Paul! Paul!" she called for her husband. Once she had Lizzie inside, Mary looked to get her out of the jacket she was wearing, a man's jacket by the looks of it and certainly one that she had never seen. With the jacket off, Mary took in the ripped blouse and feared the worst. "Oh my god! Lizzie, Lizzie, what's happened to you baby? Who did this?" Mary felt tears of her own well up, flooding her eyes. Paul Houston came downstairs to find his wife and daughter hugging, both of them crying. It's a well-known fact that men don't handle women in tears very well. They are at a loss as to what to do and feel completely inadequate. Paul was no different and he stood back a few paces from the sobbing womenfolk. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other, waiting for someone to tell him what was going on. At last Mary broke the embrace and guided her daughter through into the kitchen. Paul took in the ripped blouse and assumed correctly that his daughter had been attacked. This was different; this was something he knew how to react to. Someone had attacked his little angel and Paul felt the rage beginning to build in the very pit of his stomach. "What's going on? What's happened to you, Lizzie?" he demanded. Paul's hard tone helped to snap Mary out of her own panicked reaction. She recognised the macho attitude coming out and knew that was the last thing her daughter needed right now. "Paul, leave this to me," she ordered. She settled Lizzie in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and put the kettle on. Moving up behind her daughter, she put her arm around her shoulders and pulled her head against her chest. "Baby, you need to tell us what's happened to you," she said. "I ... I ... was attacked, mom. Somebody tried to, tried to, to rape me," "The bastard! Who was it?" cried Paul. "Paul, shut up, you're not helping. Tell mom what happened baby." Having managed to get out the 'rape' word, Lizzie seemed to gain strength. Her mother's arm around her shoulder reminded her of the strength of her saviour, the vigilante, and that memory helped to. "I was taking a short cut through Kelvingrove Park to catch a bus on Sauchiehall Street," she said, "there was no warning. He, he grabbed me {hic) and threw me to the ground, {sniff) he must have been hiding in the bushes beside the path." "Easy, baby. Take your time," Mary soothed. "I tried to, (sniff} to fight him off, but he was sitting on me. He had a stocking over his head and he was shouting at me to stop fighting. Then he pulled out a, a knife and held it to my throat - I really thought he was going to kill me." Mary stroked her daughter's hair as the words spilled out of her mouth and the tears continued to fall. "Then I saw another man, this one wearing a, a ski mask." Mary felt her daughter's posture change, as if she was gathering strength from somewhere. The tears stopped and her speech became calmer. "The second man grabbed the arm that was holding the knife and I think he broke it. He hit the man on top of me and dragged him off. Then he helped me up and gave me money for a taxi." Mary drew back to look at her daughter and saw she had a far away look in her eyes and even a hint of a smile. "Baby, I think we need to phone the police. I don't know who this masked man was who saved you but we need to make sure we at least try and make sure the man who attacked you is caught." ------- The police took an hour to come after they called the local station. There were two of them, a male and a female officer. As soon as they heard what the incident was about, the male officer radioed back to base to ask that a patrol sweep through the park in an effort to catch the attacker. The woman Police Constable began to question Lizzie, taking notes in a little book she fished out of a pocket. "So the second man was wearing a ski mask. Can you tell me anything more about what he looked like?" she asked. Mary saw the hint of a smile appear again on her daughter's face. She was amazed that Lizzie could manage that given the ordeal she had just been through. "He had blue eyes and a nice smile," Lizzie replied. The police officer looked up from her notes in surprise at the warmth in the girl's tone. "Anything else that might help identify him?" she asked. "Well, he told me his name," Lizzie replied, "he said he was the vigilante." "He said his job was to wander the streets of Glasgow to make sure fair maidens and damsels in distress were safe. Then he gave me money so I could get a taxi home and he stayed with me until I got in the taxi." ------- The patrol car that answered the dispatch call ignored the sign that said there was no access for vehicles. It turned into the park off of Sauchiehall Street and moved slowly down the path that had been identified for them. The car had only gone a few hundred yards when the headlights picked out scuff marks and signs of a struggle at the side of the path. The car stopped and two uniformed officers got out to walk forward and investigate. The scuffmarks led off into the bushes and they both removed their torches from their belts and followed cautiously. Only a few yards into the undergrowth they came to an abrupt halt. "Oh my god!" exclaimed one of the officers. "Shit! Fuck!" cried the other. Sitting up against the bole of a tree was the body of a man. There was a stocking covering the head but a hole had been made to uncover the mouth and something had been stuffed into it. The gaping hole and bloody flesh where the man's crotch once would have been gave the officers a clue as to what it was. ------- Chapter 11: Copycats As is often the case, the biggest selling morning newspapers picked up on the exclusive run the day before by the evening newspapers. The vigilante story was so sensational that all of the main Scottish papers carried their own versions of the story on their front pages. The difference in the treatment of 'the vigilante' was marked however, with none of the 'cowardly' slant that the Evening Times story had used. If anything the Daily Record hailed the vigilante as a modern day hero, reclaiming Glasgow's streets from the criminals when the police were failing. Another feature of certain journalists is that they monitor police radio channels, hoping to get in early on breaking investigations. The Record's crime reporter had lucked onto the call from the officers in Kelvingrove Park and his luck was going to prove significant for Gavin. Although details of the incident in the park were sketchy, later editions of the Daily record carried the news that the vigilante had struck again. Those few lines acted as a spur to the journalist from the Evening Times and he followed the incident up with his police contacts. In no time at all he had the horrific details of the murder of one Frederick (Fred) Little and the information that Little had been linked to the entire series of rapes that had been carried out over the previous months. He also noted down the name of Lizzie Houston and her address. ------- For once Lizzie wasn't home alone - both of her parents having taken time off work to be with her after her ordeal. When the front door bell rang it was Mary who answered it to find the Evening Times journalist on her doorstep. "Can I help you?" she asked. "Mark James, Evening Times. I wondered if I could have a few words with Lizzie Houston about the attack on her last night?" he asked, holding out his press credentials. Mary took the 'pass' and studied it carefully, satisfying herself that he was who he said he was. The idea of the family being in the newspaper was of some concern to her, but she decided there was almost a civic duty to speak out about rape and violent attacks on women. Slightly nervous about it still, she agreed that he could talk to Lizzie and invited him in. The family all gathered in the sitting room, Lizzie beside Mark James on the sofa. "I just want to get a few details about last night, Lizzie. I know it must be very upsetting for you, but it might do others good to hear your story. Other girls might take some comfort from your words," he started. This opening was calculated to get the girl to open up, to make her think about the greater good. Of course that was all a ruse - he was a newspaper man and what he was really after was something sensational that would sell copy. Lizzie was more than happy to talk about her hero the vigilante and she shared every detail of what he had said and done. Once she had finished her story, Mark James gave her a strange look. "You make him sound like some modern day knight in shining armour," he said. Lizzie got all misty eyed as she thought about that. "Well, that's exactly what he was," she eventually replied. "You would find out about this later today anyway, so I can tell you now. The man who attacked you was called Fred Little. He is believed to be responsible for more than six rapes in Glasgow over the past year. In all likelihood this vigilante left you getting into a taxi and returned to murder him, murder him in a most brutal way. The vigilante cut Little's genitals off and stuffed them into his mouth. That doesn't sound like the actions of a knight," the journalist said. The reactions he got were not what he had expected. "Well that saves me a job!" exploded Paul Houston. "Oh! So that's what he meant when he said the man wouldn't hurt anyone ever again. I forgot he said that," said Lizzie. The thought made her smile even wider, her attacker was gone forever and she wouldn't have to worry about him again. "It sounds to me as if Glasgow's women are much safer today with someone like him dealt with. Live by the sword, die by the sword - in a manner of speaking," blushed Mary, as she realised how her words could be construed. ------- Gavin read the morning paper and felt a little bit better about himself at the different way his 'work' was described in this version of his story. He watched quite a bit of daytime TV, lost deep in thought about how the 'family discussion' would go that night. Something nagged away at his subconscious and he forced himself to focus on the show that was running. Most daytime TV is pretty mind numbing at best. The current show was one of those where people bought run down properties and renovated them to make money. His interest was suddenly piqued. There could be an opportunity for him in something like this. "If I set up a company and got dad to buy me a run down apartment, I could use the druggies money to get tradesmen to renovate, paying them cash. Once I sell the renovated apartment the profits would be clean and easy. Maybe setting up a company will even help me with my University course in Business!" he thought to himself. Gavin had been looking at property ever since he had returned from Lochgoilhead. It was clear to him then that he was going to have to move out of the house sooner or later so with his usual thorough approach, he had started looking. One property might be absolutely perfect for what he was now thinking about. It was a sandstone tenement with eight apartments, right in the heart of the city centre. The entire building was derelict, seedy and run down and he was sure it could be bought cheaply. The location made it very attractive for his purposes, as it could attract the city's rich young crowd. Gavin spent the next few hours going over details, searching on the Internet for other information on renovation schemes. He even found out he could apply for a one-off government grant for some of the work he would probably need to carry out - home insulation, energy conservation and things like that. When his attention returned to the TV it was to find that the late afternoon TV news had picked up on the killing in the park the night before. Gavin was surprised but delighted to learn that the man from the night before was the man he had been keeping newspaper clippings of for months now. He had thought of the man as a rapist but not the rapist. ------- Glen saw the headline on the poster as he walked towards the station car park-and-ride to retrieve his car on the way home from work. He stopped to buy a copy of the Evening Times and then made his way to his car and sat behind the wheel to read the front-page article. The details of the story left Glen stunned. The sheer brutality of the killing was awful to think about and his son had carried it out. The quotes from Lizzie Houston passed him by; he didn't register just how thankful the girl was at being spared such a terrible ordeal. Glen realised that not much more than an hour after he tore into Gavin the night before, his son had gone out and killed again. It beggared belief and his mind was made up more than ever that Gavin would have to move out of the house. He even thought about contacting the police himself, but he knew that Christine and Fiona would never forgive him. It saddened him when he realised that he was actually sorry that they had ever taken Gavin in. The short drive home was still long enough for him to get his raw emotions under control. He had learned his lesson from the night before and promised himself he would be more calm and in control for the family discussion. That was one of the things he was starting to find unnerving about Gavin, his son never seemed to lose control the way he did. Of course, his son lost control in others ways - killing people for instance. When he made it to the house he found that Christine had finished early to come home and cook an extra special dinner for the family. Glen had his first indication that tonight was perhaps going to be difficult, if Christine was cooking something special, she had a reason for it. He guessed she was determined not to see her family broken up and knew he had to take that into account in terms of how the evening was going to go. Dinner was homemade lasagne with fresh green salad and garlic bread. Christine had even splashed out on a bottle of red wine and she poured Glen a glass to go with his meal. Talk was strained however, and there was no getting away from the fact that a cloud was hanging over all of them. As Christine began to clear the dirty dishes, Glen decided enough was enough. "Leave those for now, dear," he said, "I think there's something on the news that we all need to watch." Neither Christine nor Fiona had picked up on the latest news about the vigilante and they wondered why Glen wanted them to watch the news. Gavin immediately knew what his father was up to and he steeled himself for what was about to come and what the reactions would be from his mother and sister. The evening news programme started with a summary of the main news items. When the anchor said that there had been further sensational developments in the case of the Glasgow vigilante, Christine and Fiona gasped and looked quickly at Gavin. Gavin avoided their eyes and instead focussed on the TV. The vigilante story was the lead item and the family listened in silence. "Now, to our top story tonight. Glasgow has been rocked in the last few days by the news that a vigilante is active across the city. He has already been connected to the deaths of nine members of criminal gangs and two major seizures of drugs and now it seems he is the prime suspect in another killing. "Last evening, seventeen-year old Lizzie Houston was attacked in Kelvingrove Park on her way home from work. However, her attacker seems to have bitten off more than he could chew. Let's hear the story in Lizzie's own words." The scene on the TV changed to show Lizzie Houston standing outside her front door, her parents flanking her on either side. The footage had clearly been edited and that helped put the story across quickly and with maximum impact. "He knocked me to the ground and sat on top of me. I tried to fight back but he had a knife and he held it to my throat, threatening to kill me. He was saying horrid things to me, telling me that he was going to rape me. "He was wearing a stocking over his head and when I saw another face, this one wearing a ski mask, I thought I was going to be gang-raped. I was surprised when the second man grabbed the hand holding the knife and I think I heard him break the rapist's arm. Then he hit him and dragged him off of me. "He reassured me and told me that I was going to be alright. He said that the rapist wouldn't hurt anyone ever again - but I didn't realise at the time what he meant by that. "He told me his name was the vigilante and that his job was to wander the streets of Glasgow to make sure fair maidens and damsels in distress were safe. He was strong yet gentle with me, making sure I was covered up and that I got home safely. He gave me money and watched over me until I got into a taxi. "I can't describe how frightened I was. I prayed for the lord to save me and the vigilante came to my rescue. I know that he killed that man, but that saves me from worrying that he's out there somewhere and that he might attack me again. If he's watching this, I would just like to say thank you again. Thank you Mr Vigilante, thank you." The shot on the TV changed back to the studio. "The man who attacked Lizzie Houston has been identified as Fred Little, a 27 year-old unemployed man with no fixed address. Strathclyde police today confirmed that Little had been positively linked to six rapes in and around Glasgow in the past year." "After Lizzie Houston had reported her ordeal to police last night, Little's body was discovered in Kelvingrove Park. The body had been horrifically mutilated according to police and they warn that the vigilante is a dangerous killer and should not be approached by members of the public." "We sent our reporter, Glen MacDaid, out onto the streets of Glasgow today to gauge the public's reaction to the work of the vigilante. Here's Glen's report." The screen changed once more to show a 'talking heads' type collection of comments from ordinary men and women in the streets of Glasgow. The overwhelming sense was that the public supported the vigilante, particularly the women who had been interviewed. Eventually the news moved on to other items and the Anderson/MacSween family tuned back in to the drama that was playing out in their own sitting room. At first no one said anything, but then Fiona broke the silence. "She's very pretty." Gavin blushed. "I didn't notice," he responded. "You hugged her, didn't you. That's why she chose the words 'strong yet gentle', you hugged her." "Fi, you heard her. She was terrified, she even wet herself, I could smell it. I tried to comfort her and if I managed that then I'm proud." "Oh, I think you managed that alright. Didn't you see her eyes when she was talking about you? They were glowing. She loves you Gavin; she feels exactly how I felt when you saved me. You are her hero now and your importance to her will continue to grow. Did you know you had the man you've been after?" "No, I just thought he was a rapist, not the rapist." "Did you really tell her your job was to look after fair maidens and damsels in distress?" Gavin grew red faced again. "I might have," he replied. "Silly! There's nothing wrong with that. All girls would like the idea of a knight in shining armour out there looking after them. You probably couldn't have said anything better to reassure her and make her smile." Glen had heard enough. His daughter seemed to be saying that she was in love with her 'brother', which was very disturbing and no one was actually talking about the latest brutal killing this his seventeen-year-old son had carried out. "Enough! What I can't get my head around is why nobody seems to be thinking about the fact that Gavin killed again last night, less than an hour after we argued. Not only that but he cut that man's cock off and stuffed it in his mouth! Is no one else finding this just a little bit too much to take?" he asked. "Did you really cut his, his, his thingy off?" asked Fiona. "Fiona!" cried Glen. Christine cut in. "Honey, you see things differently. When you go to work in the morning you don't have a pack of men undressing you with their eyes on the train. You don't have to put up with men belittling your efforts at work, undermining your self-confidence just to make themselves feel more secure. You're not a woman trying to get along in what is still very much a man's world. The potential physical threat from men is much sharper for women - it's always there, just below the surface. "Rape is possibly our worst fear. To be violated in that way, to be physically helpless as our most intimate parts are assaulted, as the very essence and core of us is ripped apart - nothing could be worse. Do you know that less than one in twenty of the reported rapes in Scotland results in a conviction? With figures like that can you blame women for having little sympathy when a man who has raped at least six is killed? "Did you hear the girl? She was terrified. Gavin says she actually wet herself she was so scared. Incredibly, Lizzie Houston was spared that ultimate violation and she is desperately thankful. I can understand that. If you were watching her mother at her side, you would have seen that she understands that too. Lizzie's father was nodding when she was talking about her attacker being killed. I'd hazard a guess that he was thinking that someone had saved him a job. How would you feel, Glen if it had been Fiona that was attacked? "Now, I have problems with what Gavin is doing, of course I have. Watching his mother being raped by three men has clearly scarred him and perhaps he needs some professional help for that. But I will not condemn him because on some basic, fundamental level the killing of a rapist makes me as a woman feel safer." Glen couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did Christine really feel that way? Did she really see all men in such a negative, threatening way each and every day? "If you feel so strongly, why did you marry me?" he asked. Christine was stung by Glen's question. She was starting to feel as if her husband wasn't as smart as she thought he was. He clearly was only hearing what she was saying in a two-dimensional way, the emotional aspects of the situation seemed to be beyond him. "Because I love you and I'm hurt that you felt you had to ask that question," she replied. Glen saw the hurt look in his wife's eyes and he knew he had slipped up big style. He felt his anger rising again. Why had this turned out to be about him? Why did he suddenly find himself in trouble when they should all be making it clear that it was Gavin who needed sorting out? Despite promising himself to remain calm, he instinctively lashed out as a form of defence. "Why is it that suddenly I'm in trouble here? Why am I the one who seems to be a disappointment to you when I've done nothing wrong? Charles Bronson over there has killed ten people, some of them with brutal methods. Why aren't we dealing with that? Can you tell me that you honestly feel safe with him in the house, knowing what he's capable of? Can you?" he demanded. "Yes," Christine and Fiona replied together. Glen was shocked at their response and at the fact that there had been no hesitation before they had answered his question. "Gavin would never hurt one of us, and if you think that he would then you need to question your emotional intelligence," Christine said now. Fiona nodded to show she agreed with her mother. Glen's face was growing an ever-deeper red as he realised just how far apart he was from his wife and daughter. So far Gavin had remained quiet although he was disturbed to see and hear what his actions were doing to the Anderson family. He felt it was time he intervened before things went completely off of the rails. "Look, it's clear that I'm the cause of the problems here. I've already said that I think it would be best if I moved out and nothing I'm hearing is changing my mind about that," he said. "You're only part of the problem son, I'm beginning to see that there are other problems in this family that need to be addressed," replied Christine. "Listen - mom, dad - I've been thinking about combining moving out with a potential business scheme. If it were to work it would take up all my time. If I've got something to occupy myself with, then it would maybe make it easier to keep my promise to stop all of this vigilante stuff. And maybe you're right mom. Maybe it's time I looked into getting some therapy to deal with my issues rather than taking the law into my own hands." For the first time in the whole discussion, Glen felt someone had said something sensible. He was still slightly annoyed that it had been Gavin who said it, but he liked the sound of his 'son' moving out, ceasing all vigilante activity and getting some therapy. They all sounded like excellent ideas to him. ------- Fraser managed to get away and he drove to his usual spot and parked up. He tried to come to this place at least once a month, to get away from his criminal life, to clear his mind and try to keep a grip on his sanity. These hours spent alone were when he dreamed about getting away from the Cullen clan forever. Today, having been slashed by Cullen himself, having already seen the consequences of Rab's stupid approach to the journalist; those dreams were stronger than ever. Two of the Cullen clan's pushers had been attacked the night before by groups of young men out on the town. Fraser knew that the other Glasgow gangs had experienced similar 'copy-cat' vigilante attacks, just as he had feared when Rab had put forward his idea of going to the press. He knew this was probably only the start of it and that things would get worse. Looking out of the car window, he saw what he was looking for, what he came here every month to see. His troubles lifted a little as they always did and a smile of satisfaction played across his lips. ------- The pusher was nervous. He knew that others had been attacked and for once in his life, being part of one of the Glasgow clans wasn't enough to guarantee his safety. Business was slow as well and the pusher was aware that prices had rocketed. Although perhaps not the brightest, he guessed that that was something to do with supply in the aftermath of two big seizures. A group of four 'lads' was heading in his direction - probably all in their late teens/early twenties. They didn't look like users and the pusher pulled back deeper into the doorway he was using. The fear really struck home when the lads drew level with him. "Hey look, a fucking druggie!" snarled one, clearly already drunk. "Let Glasgow flourish, kill a dealer a day!" shouted another, quoting the vigilante's note. The largest of the four lunged forward and swung a boot at the pusher. When he crumpled in a heap it became a free for all and the four got in each other's way as they tried to land kicks on the curled-up figure. Two uniformed officers in a passing police patrol car witnessed the attack, but for once they didn't rush to break it up. Pushers were the cause of much of their day to day workload, as they investigated drug-related crimes - robbery, theft, burglary - all aimed at generating money for drugs. They let the attack go on for some moments before one of them reached forward and turned on the car's siren. The four lads scattered when they heard the police car, but by then the pusher was a bloody mess on the ground. ------- At the East-end of the city centre lies Glasgow's Barrowland, or the Barras as it's known locally. The Barras was like a flea market, with hundreds of stalls set out selling just about anything you could imagine - some of it even legal. One enterprising market stall trader had come up with what he thought was a sure-fire winner. He had purchased hundreds of cheap T-shirts and had heat-transferred the Glasgow coat of arms onto the front with the legend 'Let Glasgow flourish'. On the back he had printed 'Support the vigilante'. His judgement had been sound in one sense and the T-shirts were selling like hot-cakes. Unfortunately his judgement was sadly lacking in another respect - he had forgotten just who the vigilante was hurting most. Within a few hours of setting up his stall, with business brisk, he looked up to see four burly men approaching. He had enough street smarts to realise he had made a glaring mistake and was now about to pay for it. One of the Turnbull clan smashed a fist into his face and then proceeded to work him over. The other three trashed his entire stall and dumped his stock of T-shirts into a heap before pouring petrol on them and setting the pile alight. The attack took only a few minutes, but the trader's livelihood was gone and he suffered two broken ribs and a broken nose into the bargain. ------- Drew read the report of yet another copycat vigilante attack. This one had turned particularly nasty as the Glasgow gangs were now responding to protect their assets. Two teenagers had tried to attack a loan shark who was doing his rounds to collect weekly payments. Unfortunately the teenagers didn't notice the silver BMW that was following the loan shark and when they pushed him to the ground, they suddenly found the tables turned on them. Both had suffered stab wounds and were lucky to still be alive. "This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I knew there were idiots out there who would think being a vigilante sounded like fun, that's why I tried to keep this out of the media," he thought to himself. MacIntosh's frustration at being no closer to catching the real vigilante was also mounting. If any confirmation was required that his man had indeed killed the rapist in the park, it came in the form of a footprint that matched the partial print found outside Gilchrist's house. "The evidence is piling up and piling up. I just need to find the bastard and he's bang to rights." ------- Chapter 12: Getting down to business! Gavin once more completed his preparation with his usual thoroughness. He managed to convince Glen that his idea for a project was a sound one and that it could make money. He took Glen to see the apartment building he had been looking at. As they walked through one of the dilapidated apartments, he explained what he planned to do. "The owners are asking four hundred thousand for the building," he said. "Look Gavin, I'm willing to take out a mortgage for you, but not for that amount. This place is an absolute mess, you couldn't live here. If your mother sees it she'll have a fit about you even considering it." "Dad, you're not seeing the potential. Buying one of the apartments and renovating it will increase its value, but it won't be that desirable in the middle of the others if they're still a mess. The beauty is in buying and renovating all of them. When they're finished their value will rocket. Look at the location, it's perfect for the young city gent!" "But four hundred thousand, I just can't afford a mortgage at that level," Glen complained. "I've researched this dad. The building has been on the market for over eighteen months and no one has shown any interest. I think we could probably get it for as little as two hundred thousand. There are eight four-bedroom apartments. Once I've done them up they will each go for a minimum of two hundred thousand, possibly as much as three hundred!" Gavin said excitedly. Glen's eyes widened in surprise at the figures Gavin was throwing at him. "I figure about twenty thousand to renovate each apartment so if we got two hundred thousand for each of them, we're looking at more than a million in profit," Gavin threw in. "Okay, tell me again how this is going to work?" Glen asked. "First we set up a company. The company takes on the liability for the original mortgage. I do most of the hard work to keep costs down. Once the first flat is ready we have it re-valued and hopefully we can then re-mortgage to get more capital. We use part of that to service the debt and we don't sell until all of the building is finished so we realise the best prices," Gavin explained. He had omitted to explain that the cost of bringing each apartment up to the luxury standard he wanted would actually be closer to forty thousand. His plan was that the labour part of that would be hidden by paying cash, using the money from the drug houses. Everybody knows that labour costs are the biggest element of any job and Gavin planned to use that to launder the money he had. "So how do we set up a company?" Glen asked. With that question Gavin knew his father was going to go for his plan. "That's pretty straightforward. We need to fill in two forms for Companies House and then draw up a memorandum of association - that will set down the company's head office and what its business is. We also need to draw up articles of association. They will set out the structure of the limited company, who the office holders are and who holds shares. We need to get a solicitor to witness the office bearers signing those and the forms," Gavin explained. "It's that easy?" Glen asked in surprise. "It really is that easy to set up a company. The difficult bit is making money, dad," Gavin laughed. "You know, I think you really have a head for this 'business' thing. I'm starting to believe you might just do well at university," Glen said. ------- The next few weeks were quiet for the police and the Glasgow gangs apart from some further copycat vigilante attacks. These soon dried up when reports surfaced in the newspapers about attempts that had gone wrong, where the would-be vigilantes came off second best. The same couldn't be said for the Andersons and Gavin. The first order of business was to put a bid in on the apartment building. Gavin advised Glen to put in a bid of one hundred and seventy five thousand, just to see what happened. The owners didn't take long to reject the bid, suggesting that something nearer the asking price was necessary. Gavin advised they should go back with a second proposal of two hundred thousand and put a fixed date on the offer, giving the owners only two days to consider it. He furnished their solicitors with the dossier he had built-up on the building, showing it had been lying empty for some time with no interest in it. The solicitors used the information Gavin provided to try and force the sale through and they advised Glen and Gavin that the owners were weakening. The feeling was that sweetening the deal just a little more might secure the purchase. Gavin advised Glen to go to two hundred and forty thousand as a final, final offer. Gavin could see his dream drifting away as he realised his estimate of how desperate the building's owners might be to sell was off the mark. He jumped when the phone rang and he watched Glen answer it. He could only hear one side of the conversation and that was painful. "Hello," said Glen. Gavin strained to try and hear what was being said at the other end of the line without success. "Okay. No, that's fine. Thanks, that's all we could ask of you." "What?" Gavin shouted, unable to contain himself any longer. Glen took his time to hang up and then turned round. "We've just bought an apartment building. I think you're going to be very busy for the next few years," smiled Glen. "Yes!" screamed Gavin. He didn't correct Glen. His own plan was that the renovation work would be completed a lot quicker than Glen thought. Glen didn't need to know that, or where the funding was coming from to accelerate the work. ------- After the nervous handling of the purchase, the incorporation of the new business was much more sedate. The paperwork was completed easily enough. Gavin had decided to name the company Hedonist Properties and that was what went onto the forms. The registered address for the company was given as 11 Renfrew Street, Glasgow - the apartment building that they had just bought. Glen and Gavin were listed as the directors of the company with a 45% share each. Gavin insisted that Fiona be put down as the company secretary, with a 10% share. "She doesn't know it yet, but she's going to be doing most of the interior design work for the renovation so she deserves a share," he told Glen. Glen wasn't convinced that using Fiona was such a good idea. He knew she was very strong at art subjects at school, but the substantial mortgage he had just taken out tended to focus his thinking now about what Gavin was doing. Gavin assured him Fiona would do fine and it was all cheap labour into the bargain. The whole family went to the solicitor's office to collect the large bunch of keys for the apartment building and then Christine and Fiona were allowed to have their first viewing of chez Gavin. "It's a ruin!" exclaimed Christine. "How on earth can this pile of rubble be worth two hundred and forty thousand pounds?" asked Fiona. "Well, funny you should ask that," said Gavin, winking at Glen. When they returned home for dinner, Gavin laid out his plans for the building. "The first thing I'm going to do is gut out the inside of the two ground floor flats - I'm going to focus my efforts on them initially. Fiona, dad and I have put you down as an officer of Hedonist Properties and the reason for that is that I want you to do all of the interior design work." He paused at this point to let Fiona recover from the coughing fit that suddenly overcame her. When she recovered she let them know what she thought of their idea. "You're crazy! The only interior design I would recommend for that place is a bulldozer!" she cried. "Part of being an officer means that you have a 10% share in the company, sis. The better the job you do, the more money you stand to make. I estimate that we can gross over one million pounds once we've finished," Gavin said. Fiona's eyes grew large at the sums involved. "I'm going to enlist the guys from my dojo to knock down all of the internal walls and stuff and clear up all the rubbish. As a reward I'm going to have the company sponsor some equipment for them - it will all be tax deductible. I've already set that up and it should be done by the end of this week," Gavin said next. No one could argue with this plan to have one of the dirtiest and most labour intensive jobs carried out at little cost. "Once we have the worst of the debris cleared out, I'm going to move in and stay there so I can put in lots of hours," he said now. "But son, it's a derelict building! You can't move in there!" his mother complained. "I'll be fine mom and besides, we need some on-site security to safeguard our investment. I can buy some basic camping gear to keep me going until some of the development work is finished. I'll be absolutely fine." Fiona gave her brother a hard look. ------- Glen was content for Gavin to make the entire running with Hedonist Properties. It had been his idea and Glen hoped it really would keep him fully occupied. The articles of association made it clear that both Gavin and Glen had to sign-off on expenditure, but after Gavin approached him the first few times, Glen made it clear he didn't want to be saddled with that. Gavin simply began to sign for both of them, happy that Glen wouldn't see how quickly things were going or the fact that payments wouldn't fully match the work being carried out. Gavin's first company purchase was a work's van. With his new license, he felt the van would be invaluable and also help him be more mobile. He also realised that the existence of the company opened some other doors too. With a company behind him he was able to set up trade accounts with suppliers. That gave him access to materials at a much cheaper rate than they were available to the general public. Gavin knew that that would save quite a bit of money and it also allowed him to make quite a few of the purchases in cash to use up some of the drug cash. Knocking down the existing interior walls was actually quite a fun job. The work was so old that the plaster of the walls had been applied to wooden lathes - predating sheetrock. Gavin had more than twenty willing helpers from his martial arts dojo and they all laughed and joked as they worked, faces covered by masks to protect them from the fine dust that was thrown up. A huge skip was rented to take care of the rubbish generated by pulling down the old plasterwork and it had to be emptied a number of times given the volume that was coming out of the building. Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow was tipped into the skip before eventually the job was finished and Gavin and Fiona had two 'shells' to work with on the ground floor of the building. Gavin was delighted. Less than a week had gone by since they had picked up the keys to the building and already two of the units were ready for work. He made up a list of things he would need to buy so that he could move in and used the new van to do some shopping. First on his list was a decent mattress to sleep on, quickly followed by a high quality sleeping bag. Although the apartments had no heating yet, it was nearly the beginning of August so it wouldn't be too cold for the next few months. He planned to use the showers and toilets at the pool where he trained for swimming, so the absence of functioning plumbing wouldn't be a major handicap for a few weeks either. A camping stove and basic utensils were added to his growing load, as was a battery powered 'boom box' so he could have music while he worked. ------- Christine had planned another special meal for what was to be Gavin's last night before he moved out. She worked in the kitchen, worried about her boy leaving home, particularly having seen the mess he was moving into. She worried too about what he had done, what he was capable of. She really wanted her little boy back. Laying out a chicken breast on the chopping board, she covered it with cling-film and proceeded to pound it with a rolling-pin to flatten it out. The pounding was therapeutic and she quickly repeated the actions with three more. Squeezing lemon juice onto each breast, she dipped them into a dish of seasoned flour and then into a bowl of egg and Parmesan cheese whisked together. The chicken then went into a hot pan on the stove to cook. Potatoes were roasting in goose fat in the oven and roughly chopped carrots and parsnips were drizzled in olive oil and rosemary before joining the potatoes. Christine steamed some asparagus in readiness for the final touch to the meal. Once the chicken breasts were cooked to a golden brown, she spooned a dollop of double cream onto each and then laid spears of asparagus on top before finally covering the whole in cheese. The chicken went into the oven for a few minutes to let the cheese melt and then she put together a plate for each of the family. Glen drank several glasses of wine with Christine's fine dinner, perhaps the only one at the table apart from Gavin who was happy about his son's imminent departure. He cheerfully asked Gavin how things were going at the building, oblivious to the sombre mood of the womenfolk. Another couple of glasses of wine after dinner soon had Glen quite drunk and he dozed in his armchair. Christine took the opportunity of having a few words with her son. "Gavin, you have to promise me you'll be careful. I'm still worried about you moving into that place," she said. "Mom, I think I've shown I'm more than capable of looking after myself. I just knew you were going to be worried though, so the last thing I bought myself today was this," he said. Gavin held up an ultra-slim mobile phone. He had added it to his list, knowing that having it would make his mother feel better. It also gave him a phone number now for the new business and he would put the cost of the phone and his calls down as a business expense. Christine smiled at him for being so thoughtful, and then she changed the subject completely. "Have you done anything about maybe getting some therapy?" she asked, "I know what I said about the rapist, but you can't continue to take the law into your own hands. Your father's right about that." Gavin frowned. He had agreed that seeking some professional help was perhaps a good idea. Although his conscience remained absolutely clear, he was intelligent and knew that what he had been doing was far from normal. The truth was he wasn't sure he wanted therapy and didn't have the first idea of how he would go about arranging it even if he decided to try. "I've been too busy, mom. I haven't had any urges to do any vigilante stuff either since I've taken on the business, so maybe I'm going to be okay," he replied, lamely. Christine let it drop. She didn't want Gavin's last night at home to be a trial and instead she turned to happier things. "So, this time next year my son the businessman is going to be a millionaire?" she asked, laughing. "It's no laughing matter, mom. This project really could make over a million. Besides, running a business has got to help with my studies. I'll bet there won't be many of the others in my year who have a real business to practice on," he replied, his smile showing he wasn't upset by Christine's comment. "Well just don't forget your poor relatives when you're rolling in money, that's all I can say," Christine responded. "Don't worry, mom. I'll be sure to look after you in your old-age," Gavin quipped. Christine leant over and ruffled his hair. "I'm not that old yet, cheeky! Now, I'll get sleeping beauty here off to bed and give you and your sister some time to talk." Christine roused Glen and ushered him grumbling upstairs to bed. Fiona joined her brother on the sofa. "I can't believe you're really going to leave me," she said. "Fi, I'm only ten minutes away, I'm not going to the moon. Besides, you'll need to spend quite a bit of time with me if you're going to do a good job on the design work," he replied. Gavin put his arm around her and pulled her in close. "You know I love you, Fi and that's never going to change." Fiona sighed, a happy sigh, as she let his words sink in. He loved her; everything was right in the world, even though he was leaving home. She lifted her head and turned, hoping for another of his scorching kisses. Gavin didn't disappoint her and tenderly met her lips with his own. The little sparks began to fly for Fiona immediately and all of her worries about what she was planning for Gavin's last night disappeared. She melted into his arms and muscled chest, thrilling to feel his hard body against hers. Gavin tried to stop his mind conjuring up the image that was burned there - the image of Fiona in her little skimpy top and pleated skirt, the image of her two perfect breasts inside the top, the image of her straddling his lap. He failed and felt himself growing painfully erect inside his pants. Embarrassed, he tried to get himself out of this situation without his sister noticing just how hard he was. "Errr, maybe it's time for us to turn in too," he said. "Okay," Fiona whispered in reply, her cheek soaking up the warmth from his chest. Gavin somehow managed to untangle himself and stood up, careful to keep the tent in his pants hidden from her. Fiona followed him upstairs and when he paused at his bedroom door, she raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed him once more. Now she could feel how ready he was for her and there were no doubts left in her mind. Gavin ended the kiss, still hoping that Fiona couldn't tell how aroused he was and opened the door to his room. "Goodnight, sis," he said. Fiona pushed him into the room and pulled the door closed behind them. "Make love to me Gavin, make love to me, please?" she breathed. "Fiona, we can't do that baby, it wouldn't be right," Gavin responded, weakly. "Well it seems that someone thinks otherwise," whispered Fiona, as her hand lowered to gently stroke the outline of his hard cock. With that one touch Gavin knew he was lost. He pulled her close and caressed her lips again with his own, now no longer trying to hide how hard he was for her. Fiona continued to be the aggressor, urging him backward toward the bed until she felt him lowering himself. She followed until once more she was straddling his hips, thrilled to hear how difficult he was finding it to breathe. "I've wanted this for four years, four long years of trying to get you to take notice of me." Fiona lifted the hem of her top and pulled it up and over her head. She hadn't worn a bra, part of her planning for this moment and now she fed him one of her breasts, its nipple already hard and eager to feel his lips. Gavin groaned. Fiona didn't know it but she had recreated the moment he had remembered every time he masturbated in the past few months. For Gavin, the reality was proving better than the memory. He had pictured the last time she had straddled him, when he could see down the front of her top, feel the heat from her where she sat on top of his painfully hard cock. Now he suckled on her hard nipple as she ground herself against him. "Oh yes, bro. Suck me, my titties have ached to feel your mouth on them. Suck me, suck me, yeeesssss. "God it feels good to finally have you doing that, yeesss, yeesss. You don't know how many nights I've lay in bed and pinched my nipples, dreaming it was you doing it. God yes, yes, bro yes! "Do you know what else I did bro? Do you know what else I did when I was snuggled up warm in bed? I rubbed my little pussy and imagined it was your hand, your fingers teasing me, your fingers spreading me open. Yes, bro, yes, do that. Fiona's commentary was having its effect on Gavin. He couldn't believe how hot his sister was, how hot she was making him with her words. He grazed her hard nipple with his teeth before nipping it lightly and heard her encouragement to do it again. "Oh Jesus that feels soooo good, bro, soooo good, yes. I'm so hot, so hot. Feel how hot for you I am, bro, feel." Fiona took Gavin's left hand and guided it between them, rubbing it along the front of her silky white panties. "I'm soaking, can you feel that, bro, can you feel how hot and wet I am for you, can you feel me? Oh I want you so bad, bro, so bad." Gavin could indeed feel how wet she was. He had never touched a girl like this before and the sensation of the slightly slick moisture was fascinating to him. The heat coming from between her legs was also incredible and he knew she was literally hot for him. He was disappointed when she pulled her nipple from his mouth and wondered what she was doing until she began to slide herself upward. Gavin was completely inexperienced when it came to sex, but he knew more than enough to guess what Fiona intended. Her knees came closer to his head and for the first time his senses were enveloped in the scent of a woman, the scent of a woman in heat. It was musky, unlike anything he had ever smelled before and he knew immediately he was hooked. "Will you kiss my little pussy, bro? It's all tingly and really needs you to kiss it, will you do that for me? Will you lick my little pussy and make it feel good, please bro? Please lick my little pussy." Fiona lowered her soaking panties onto his mouth and nose and Gavin got his first taste of her. His tongue came out and licked the wet patch of material and he knew he had to have more of her sweet nectar. His lips fastened onto the silk and he sucked her juices out of it, the taste driving his arousal higher than he thought possible. "Oh god, oh god, yeeesss, lick me bro, lick me, yeesssss! "Do I taste good, bro, does your sister's little pussy taste good? Yeessss, lick me, lick me, aaaahhhhhhh yeeess." Fiona's hips were rocking gently now and she could feel the bridge of Gavin's nose bumping her excited clit, forcing her panties into the top of her slit. She steadied herself with her left hand and used her right to pull her panties to one side, baring herself for her brother's mouth. "Do it bro, lick me, oh god yes, it feels soooooo good, yes, yeessss, ahhhhh." Gavin wasn't sure what he was supposed to do but he went on instinct and the direction he was getting from Fiona's words and movements. He found her hard clit and felt her jump whenever his tongue touched it so he continued to pay it some attention. He also made sure to swipe his tongue up the entire length of her juicy slit, capturing as much of her taste as possible. "Jesus yeess, yeesssss, sooo good, right there bro, right there, ahhhh, ahhhh, yeesss. Lick my little pussy, suck it bro, yeesss, yeesss, uugghhhhhh. Do it to me Gav, eat my pussy, suck my little pussy, ahhhhhhh. Yeessss, uuuggghhhhh, gonna cum bro, you're making me cum, yeesss, ahhhh, gonnna ahhhhhhhh, yeeeesss!" When Fiona's thighs clamped painfully on either side of his head and then she slumped forward, Gavin guessed that she had enjoyed an orgasm. He felt incredibly pleased with himself for managing to do that for her and once again couldn't believe just how hot it was, just how wild his little 'sister' was. No longer having her pussy as the centre of his universe, he could also feel just how painfully hard he was still. Gavin managed to lift Fiona's body off of his face, rolling her gently onto her back beside him. Her face sported a grin of Cheshire cat proportions and her eyes were closed dreamily. Lowering his head, Gavin kissed her lovingly, letting his tongue tease her lips. "Mmmmm, I do taste good, don't I?" she moaned softly. Gavin smiled as he realised he hadn't wiped his face and Fiona was tasting her own juices as they kissed. "I'm sorry, bro. I was just so hot that I couldn't help myself and you were so good. Now it's time for you to have some fun," Fiona said. Her hand dropped down to the front of his jeans and she rubbed the length of the hard lump she found there. "Mmmmm, I see you're still more than ready and I'm really looking forward to this bit, bro. I haven't touched one before but I've thought about it a lot, thought about holding your hard cock in my hand, stroking it, feeling how much you want me. "Yeah, sooo hard bro, so hard and sooo big." Gavin was trying everything to stop himself being overcome by the incredible sensations that were shooting through him. The combination of Fiona starting up her sexy talk again and her hand stroking him through his pants was heaven and he didn't think he would last long. "Can I take it out, can I see it bro, can I?" Fiona didn't wait for an answer but instead pulled down his zip and unbuttoned his jeans. Gavin felt her small hand slip inside his boxers and for the first time experienced someone else's hand going round his hard cock. "Ugghhh, slow Fi, slow. I'm already close," he managed to groan. Fiona moved and tugged at his jeans and boxers. Gavin raised himself off of the bed to help her and she pulled them off and dropped them on the floor. "Oh look at you! It's beautiful, Gavin, beautiful." Her hand returned to his cock and she awkwardly began to stroke it up and down. Gavin adjusted her grip and held his own hand over hers, setting the pace and rhythm that he liked. Once she seemed to have the hang of it, he dropped his hand and let her take over. "I never imagined it would feel so hard and soft at the same time. Mmmmm and so hot, so hard and hot, mmmm, hard and hot. "Do you want me to kiss it bro? Do you want me to put this big cock of yours in my little mouth? Do you bro? Do you want Fi to suck it for you?" Gavin could only grunt in response, but Fiona took that as a yes. She held him upright and took the tip inside her mouth, wrapping her tongue around it and tasting just a hint of saltiness. She decided she liked it and dropped her mouth lower to take more of him inside. Unlike Fiona, Gavin had no words to describe the feeling and he could only moan continuously as his cock slipped into her mouth. All too soon he felt he was going to shoot and he tried to push her off. Fiona resisted and felt his cock jump as it fired his cream into her mouth again and again. She swallowed as it filled her and kept coming, until she felt him relax beneath her and the torrent slackened off. Pulling him from her mouth, she licked up the last few drops, happy to see that he was still as hard as ever. "Mmmmm, you taste yummy too, bro. Was that good?" she asked, as she pulled herself up to lie beside him once more. It took a few moments for Gavin to reply, as he tried to recover from the most amazing feeling he had ever experienced. "That was absolutely incredible, Fi. I've never felt anything like that before. Oh god, incredible, so good." Gavin rolled on top of her and kissed her. "I love you, you know," he whispered to her. "I know, and I love you too. I've never been with a boy before, Gav and I listened to mum and dad when they told me to save myself for that special someone," she said quietly. "Shhhh. It's okay, Fi, we don't need to do that. I'm happy to have shared what we just did, that's enough believe me," he replied. "No, silly. What I meant was that I've been saving myself for you, you're that special someone," she giggled. Gavin was stunned and he could feel his cock grow even harder if that was possible. "Fi, maybe that's going too far and anyway we don't have any protection, he said, nervously. "Listen buster, I've waited a long time for this moment and you're not going to spoil it. And I'm on the pill, so we do have protection," she replied. "How did you manage that? If mom finds out she'll go through the roof," Gavin said. "It was mum's idea," Fiona giggled, "she knows how I feel about you and thought it would be safer for me to go on the pill. I think she realised I would get my own way sooner or later." Once again Gavin was stunned. His mother suspected that he and Fiona were going to get together and she approved? "Now, how much longer are you going to keep this horny girl waiting before you use that big thing?" she asked. "It's not that big, average if anything," he replied. "It feels plenty big to me and I've been waiting for it for a long time. Make love to me, Gavin please, make love to me and be gentle." Gavin felt her open her legs wider and he slipped between them. "You're maybe better taking my panties off first," Fiona giggled. It wasn't very often she saw her brother unsure of himself, but for once he seemed all fingers and thumbs. She raised her butt off of the bed as he slipped her panties down her legs and off. When he began kissing softly along the inside of her thigh, she tried to pull him up but he was having none of it, determined to taste her again. Gavin had read somewhere that it was a good idea to try and get the woman as hot as possible before penetration. The idea was that that would ease the pain and make it more likely that she would be able to achieve orgasm before he lost it again. Fiona restarted her commentary as soon as Gavin's mouth found her sex. "Ooohhhh yeesss, that feels good, yes bro, lick me, put your tongue in me, yeessss. Mmmmm, ugghhh, that's where I want to feel your big cock bro, right there, yeess, right there. Mmmmmm, I've dreamed of this moment for a long time, yeesss, ahhhhh, yeessss. Please give it to me bro, let me feel you inside me, please, pretty please? Ahhhhh, yeeess, ahhhh, now Gavin, now, please give it to me, let me feel your big hard cock in my little pussy, let me feel it, aaahhhhhh." Gavin couldn't wait any longer either. He lifted himself up and scooted forward, taking his cock in his right hand. He rubbed the head up and down Fiona's juicy lips, getting it nice and slick. "Oh baby, do it, do it, please put it in, I need it Gavin, please, please." Gavin could feel how tight she was as the head of his cock slipped into the opening of her pussy. He could also feel the barrier of her hymen and he knew he would need to break through it. "Fi, this might hurt, I'll try to be gentle," he said. "Oh god, oh god, just do it bro, push it in, do it." He pressed forward, letting his weight bear down on her and was surprised when his cock slipped an inch or two inside her with little resistance at all. It seemed Fiona was one of the lucky ones with a relatively weak hymen. Gavin backed up a little and then pushed forward again, feeling himself gain another inch or so. "God, I can feel it, soooo big, so big, mmmmmmm, sooo good, soooo good, push it in bro, aahhhhh." A few more thrusts and Gavin felt himself fully seated inside her. The feeling was awesome. He had thought nothing could beat the feel of having his cock in Fiona's mouth, but he had been wrong, boy had he been wrong. Nature took over and he dropped into a steady rhythm. "Yesss, yesss, we're doing it, we're really doing it. Mmmmmm, uggghhh, yeeess my big bro is really fucking me, yeesss, oh god yeeessss. "Aahhhhh, you feel soooo big, bro, sooo big and soooo good. Yeessss, uuugghhhhh, faster, faster, yes, yeesss. Almost there, almost there, yeessss, yeessss, ahhhhhhhh!" "I, I, love you, Fi, I love you," groaned Gavin. "Oh my god, oh my god, I can feel you cumming inside me, ohhhhh that is sooo hot, so hot, so hot, yes bro, yes bro, shoot in me, yeesss, ahhhhhh, yeeesssss!" Gavin was panting for breath and he lowered himself onto his elbows, keeping the worst of his weight off of Fiona while they both recovered. She raised her head off of the pillow so she could kiss his mouth. "And I love you too, bro," she breathed, "that was my special going away present, I hope you liked it." She received a kiss in reply. Gavin rolled them over so they were facing each other, on their sides. He stared deeply into her eyes and could see his love reflected there. They both smiled. "I would love to lie here with you all night, even see whether we could get your friend up to go again, but I think it's safer if I go back to my own bed. Mum seems to be okay with this, but I know dad would go ape," Fiona whispered. Gavin nodded and closed the gap between them for one more kiss before she left. ------- Chapter 13 There were tears the next morning when Gavin loaded some clothes and other personal stuff into the van. He gave his mother and sister hugs before shaking Glen's hand and then climbing into the van. "This is it, I'm actually striking out on my own, I'm actually doing it!" he thought, as the van moved off. Christine had given him a collapsible wardrobe to keep his clothes in, but other than that he would be living out of bags for a while. He had debated with himself whether to take the cash he had with him too, but decided it was safer left in his bedroom at his parent's house. The journey across town took only fifteen minutes and he carried the last of his belongings into the right hand side ground floor apartment. Locking the van, he walked into the shell of the apartment and looked around himself. The space was massive - 3,000 square feet with the dimensions 30' by 100', the shorter side being the front and back elevations. Most of that had been opened up - apart from a small number of load-bearing walls. Fiona had already prepared some sketches to match the initial ideas Gavin had. Despite the fact that the original apartments were four-bedroom, Gavin thought that would be a waste of space for the market he had in mind. He wanted each unit to be converted into a two-bedroom apartment, both with en-suite bathrooms as well as a lounge, kitchen and dining room. To make the job easier, Gavin planned to have the same layout in each unit. By doing so it would allow his contractors to come up with the most efficient run of pipe work - for both water and gas - and ducting for cabling. He planned to test out contractors on this ground floor apartment first, dangling the carrot of the possibility of work on the other seven units as an incentive. For now he satisfied himself with organising his meagre possessions and thinking about what he would say to the first potential contractor. He had also hired an industrial sander and his own first job was going to be to strip back the natural wood flooring and then coating it with a clear varnish to protect it. Fiona's design was beautifully simple and maximised the space available. The two bedrooms would take up the entire space at the rear of the apartment. Side by side, they would be spacious, measuring 13' by 18' each with a further 13' by 8' for their en suites. That would leave a hallway of 4' between them. The remaining 30' by 74' was going to remain open plan and provide the space for the kitchen, dining area and lounge. Gavin felt the huge open space would be a significant selling point and had stressed its importance to Fiona. Another factor in Gavin's thinking was that keeping such a large open space would significantly cut down on the amount of building work. That would cut the time it would take to renovate each unit. An initial visit had helped them identify where the various services - gas, electricity and water - entered the apartment, as Fiona needed to factor that into her designs. A dry-riser running up through the building, containing all of the services made things much easier all round. Gavin's first contractors would be an electrician (a sparkie), a plumber and a joiner (a chippie) and he had a number coming to see him on-site later that day. Each would be given a small job so he could gauge the quality of their work. He hoped to have the first unit finished within six weeks - eight at the outside. Gavin suspected that by offering cash, his contractors would be keen to fit his work in before anything else they might have on their books and he was counting on that. Putting up the small number of stud walls, re-doing the wiring and the basic piping would be easy enough. The more time consuming work would be fitting the en suites and the luxurious kitchen and also lowering the towering ceilings in the old property. Another factor Gavin was planning to build in was that he would ask each contractor what basic materials they required and then he would purchase them at trade prices and use cash. The contractors wouldn't have the hassle and would simply supply their labour - at a cash based reduced rate of course. There would be no mark up on the materials either. ------- The next week was a busy one. Both Gavin and Fiona had another big event coming up - their school exam results were due. Gavin had sat his standard grades the year before and achieved an almost perfect seven credits, all of them at grade one apart from German, which was a two. He was now waiting for the results of his highers - five of them; English, Maths, Business, German and Modern Studies. Gavin's choices of subject were all about his vision of a life in business. The language recognised the increasing importance of the European Union and Modern Studies was a mix of ethics, politics and global issues. Fiona was of course a year behind her brother and her standard grade results were important in establishing what future direction she would go in. Good results might suggest going on to university and that was what she wanted - to go on and study design, possibly with a major in fabrics and fashion. Gavin and Fiona, like all the other students in Scotland, knew the week when their results would arrive through the post. They could have gone on-line or even gone into St Andrew's High School to check their results, but they elected to go with the traditional approach and open their envelopes with their parents waiting nervously. Gavin's mobile phone rang on the morning of Wednesday, August 6th and he knew before he answered it that it would be his mother to tell him his results had arrived. "Hi, mom," he said before she could speak. "Oh you! I guess you know why I'm calling, your results came in this morning's post. Fiona's did too. She wants to wait until you're here to open hers so I thought you could maybe come round for dinner?" Christine asked. "Let me bring something round," said Gavin. "No, it's alright I'll cook," replied Christine. "Mom, take a night off for once. I'll bring Chinese and be there about 6pm," insisted Gavin. When he disconnected the call he looked around him at the transformation that was taking place inside the first apartment. The woodwork framing for all of the new internal walls was finished, as was the frame for the new ceiling. The sparkie he had hired was proving to be a quick study and all of the wiring was finished. The ring main was in, with separate cabling going into the kitchen space for the big appliances and the necessary work for the lighting was also done. The sparkie had said that being able to work in such an open space made his work pretty straightforward. He would need to return once the sheetrock and plastering was done to fit the wall sockets and install the extractors in each of the en suites. Gavin planned to put the sheetrock up himself before allowing a plasterer to put the thin skin required over the top of it. His chippie had also come up trumps when he had asked Gavin what his plans were for the walls. "I'm just going to put up sheetrock and then get a plasterer in," Gavin said. "Listen, I've been working on another job, an old church, and there's some fantastic old oak panelling that might work in here. Why don't you let me do part of this space with it?" he asked. Gavin liked the idea and negotiated a good price on the reclaimed wood. He marked out the dimensions of the lounge space so the joiner could measure out how much of the panelling would be needed. Today was the day the joiner had said he would return to start working on it. The next job for Gavin was beginning the sheetrock. He planned to work from the back - where the two bedrooms with en suites were - and had booked the plasterer to begin work on the following Monday. He estimated that was enough time to get quite a bit of his work done so the plasterer could get started and he would work just ahead of him to minimise the time it would all take. The oak panelling would significantly reduce the amount of effort he would have to put in. He reflected that the past week had been one of mixed feelings. He had been busy and was enjoying the work to bring the apartment up to the luxury finish he wanted. There had been some enjoyable banter with the various contractors - apart from one plumber who had sacked quite quickly for poor workmanship - and he was learning little tricks from them. He admitted to himself that he was missing his family though and was now looking forward to joining them for a family dinner. Gavin had been dealing with one problem however. Sleeping on his own in the apartment was proving to be difficult. He found himself lying awake in his sleeping bag, feeling the urge to go out and be the vigilante again, to feel the adrenaline, to experience the high of putting himself in danger. It was almost like a drug he thought and without it, life seemed pretty humdrum at times. By promising to try not to be the vigilante he had also set up something of an internal conflict within himself. His subconscious mind wanted to feel the thrill of being out there while his conscious thoughts dwelled on the fact that what he had done was morally wrong and certainly criminal in the eyes of society. Rationally, he knew that if he was caught he would probably spend the vast majority of his life behind bars - ten murders would add up to a lot of years. But still the urge to go out was strong and he had to battle against it. That led to a few sleepless nights spent tossing and turning. ------- Drew MacIntosh didn't know whether to be happy that there had been no further genuine vigilante incidents or not. He was still no nearer to identifying his man, despite the countless hours of good old-fashioned police work that had been dedicated to the task. Against all the odds the man hadn't made any vital mistakes, hadn't slipped up on any of the attacks he had carried out. His informants had confirmed that all of the Glasgow gangs were also desperately trying to identify the vigilante and Drew was determined to get to him first. ------- Gavin phoned the Chinese take-away closest to his parents home and placed a large order before he left the apartment building. He locked up carefully and turned to take a look at the entrance before getting onto the van. He had decided that a luxury apartment building needed a luxury entranceway and the work on that was almost finished. He had opted for a warm 'pink' marble that complemented the red sandstone of the building. The main door was of thick glass with brushed steel fixings and the glass had frosting that proclaimed the building as 'St Mungo's Heights'. St Mungo was the patron saint of Glasgow and the name had appealed to him. Work had also begun on the door entry system that was mounted on the wall just outside the doorway. The overall look and feel was exactly what he wanted, it shouted luxury and he knew it would make a wonderful first impression on prospective buyers when the time came. Smiling proudly, Gavin climbed into the van and set off to pick up the Chinese. ------- When he arrived at his parent's he could see that Fiona was very nervous. There was no point in putting off the ceremonial envelope opening until after dinner - she wouldn't be able to eat in her current state - so Gavin suggested they get it over with. Glen and Christine looked almost as nervous as Fiona did and the only one that appeared calm was Gavin. He might appear outwardly calm, but Gavin was a little nervous. He felt confident he would get the results he needed for entrance to university, but there was always the chance that one of his exams had gone horribly wrong. Gavin let Fiona open her envelope first. She struggled a little to rip her way into it, but eventually she pulled out the award certificate and scanned her results. "I've passed all of them!" she squealed. They could only smile at Fiona's antics, as she danced about the sitting room excitedly. "I've passed them all! I've passed!" Christine managed to take the certificate out of Fiona's hand as she danced past and had a look at her daughter's results for herself. "Oh my, not only have you passed, you've beaten your brother as well. Seven credits and all of them at level one! That's one more than Gavin managed last year. Congratulations and well done, baby. All your hard work has paid off," Christine exclaimed. Gavin was happy for his sister; not concerned in the least that her performance had exceeded his own at standard grade. He turned his attention to his own envelope and pushed his thumbnail under the flap, ripping along its length. He snagged the certificate inside and pulled it out, quickly scanning his results. "Four As and one B," he said, a sense of relief washing over him. "German?" his mother asked. "Yip, and I thought I had put in more work on that than anything else," Gavin replied. "Well done, son. We're really proud of both of you. I guess you really are going to university then!" said Christine. Fiona danced over and threw herself into Gavin's arms. "We passed, we passed! Yes!" she cried. "We did, sis, we did. Now, anybody else feeling hungry?" asked Gavin, swinging Fiona round in the air. Gavin had ordered up the full Chinese banquet and there was probably enough to feed eight people. There was Chow Mien, Curry, Sweet and Sour as well as Kung Po, something in black bean sauce and a Foo Yung. Side dishes of spring rolls, spare ribs and rice filled things out nicely and all four of them were soon helping themselves to tasters of each dish. Fiona complained about having to go back for the new school term a full three weeks before Gavin's university course would start. "It's not fair, how come you get more of a holiday?" she pouted. "If you can call putting in ten or twelve hours a day on the apartment a holiday!" Gavin shot back. He enjoyed the family chat and just being in company again. One of the problems with moving out was being on his own every night and he realised he missed this simple pleasure. He was also excited and pleased with himself. He had passed all his exams and was definitely off to university. "Well done me!" he thought to himself. At one point in the evening he came up behind Fiona and whispered in her ear. "Maybe you should come round to the apartment early tomorrow to see how things are going. We could take the chance to celebrate our results together." "Oh god, bro. Your breath on the back of my neck makes me feel all weak inside, so does the idea of 'celebrating' with you. What time should I be there?" she asked. "Best to let the parents get off to work first. None of the contractors will be there before 9:30 anyway, so there should be lots of time for us." Fiona had studied her brother so closely over the years that she could probably read his moods better than anybody could. She knew he was really excited about passing his exams, but was just better at appearing calm than she was. She also knew that Gavin being excited wasn't necessarily a good thing and she was determined to keep 'her man' safe. "Promise me you won't do anything silly tonight? I want to be sure you'll be there waiting for me tomorrow morning," she whispered. The idea of going out as the vigilante hadn't entered Gavin's head and he laughed and told her he would be a good boy. ------- Lying inside his sleeping bag later that night, Gavin realised just how smart his sister was. The urge to get up and take out the third drug house that he had watched was overwhelming and he tossed and turned, fighting with himself. "I promised Fi I would be a good boy. I promised Fi I would be a good boy." he repeated over and over until eventually he managed to doze off. It only seemed like minutes later when the persistent buzzing of the door awakened him and he pulled on his jeans before staggering out of the apartment to let Fiona in. "I've been buzzing for ages sleepyhead, what kept you? Did you have to smuggle your other woman out the back?" she laughed. "Err, no. I just had trouble sleeping last night," he replied. "Well I hope you got enough rest, because I've got serious plans for you. I couldn't sleep last night either. I had to play with myself three times after you got me all hot and bothered by the idea of coming here this morning. I hope you're going to deliver on your promise!" Their first coupling was pretty frantic given the anticipation that had built up, but they quickly managed a second and that was much more tender and relaxed. Once they were lying side by side on the mattress, Gavin reached over and kissed his sister. "Thank you," he said. "My pleasure I can assure you," she replied. "No, not for that silly, for last night. I don't know how you knew, but I had a hard time not going out again. That's why I couldn't sleep," he said. Fiona pulled him over on top of herself and gave him a hug. "I guess I just knew the excitement would get to you and I was worried it might translate into something else. I really don't want to see you get hurt," she said. "Well you were right, so thanks. Hey, want to join me for a morning swim? If you do, I'll buy you breakfast." Over breakfast at MacDonalds, Gavin showed Fiona the choices he had made for the appliances for the apartment. He had pointed out the 'island' that his joiner had built in the kitchen space and now he pointed out the double oven and double fridge he planned to have installed. The kitchen was mostly ash with brushed steel fittings and the appliances were brushed steel to match. "Bro, I don't get it. You've reduced the apartment to two bedrooms but you're putting in appliances that are more suitable for a large family, why?" she asked. "Simple really. It's all part of giving the impression of luxury. The eventual owners probably won't ever use the full capacity, but it just gives off the feel of luxury and I think that will appeal to the market I'm aiming at." "I still can't believe just how much space there is, it's like a football pitch in there," Fiona laughed. "You'd better start thinking about the soft furnishings that you're going to buy to fill that space up," Gavin responded. "You want me to do the furnishings too?" Fiona exclaimed, the smile disappearing off of her face. "Who else is going to do it? You know my taste stinks. You're the design expert, yesterday's exam results prove that." "Oh god, what's my budget?" she asked. Gavin laughed as he saw his sister putting on her serious shopping face. ------- The next four weeks were busy ones for Gavin. He had to combine working on the apartment with attending the university to enrol for his courses and also buying the books on the required booklist. The apartment was nearing completion - amazingly, ahead of schedule. Gavin's guess that cash would lead to his work gaining priority had proven to be the case. The second plumber he had hired worked fast and the central heating system was fully up and running. The whirlpool baths he had bought were fitted, as were all of the sinks and basins. The joiner had completed a superb job on the oak panelling and Gavin knew it would be a popular feature when it came to selling the place. His own labours on the sheetrock had taken a little longer to finish than he had thought, but he had still managed to keep just far enough in front of the plasterer to ensure that there were no delays there. Normally new plaster would only be painted for the first year or so, to ensure that any shrinkage was picked up. Given the age of the building's brickwork, Gavin didn't see that as an issue and had approved Fiona's plans for wallpaper in the bedrooms. She had worked miracles with the other furnishings and the apartment was almost the luxury unit that Gavin had pictured in his head. Fiona's tasteful and artistic selection of fabrics and a small number of feature pieces of furniture really worked. What remained to be done was the tiling in the en suites, the installation of the huge shower screens once the tiling was finished, some of the feature lighting and a number of the appliances were yet to be delivered. Gavin wanted it all done before he allowed Christine and Glen to see it. He hoped that would be sometime over the coming weekend. Gavin had applied all of his usual thoroughness to the work and had noted down the things that could be done better in the next unit. One of the things that would change would be hiring someone else to strip back the wooden floors. He had found that a difficult job and believed an expert would manage it in half the time. The overall schedule of works had also been tweaked in light of his experience. Some things were better done before others and having been through it all once, Gavin now adjusted things before starting work on the second ground floor unit. The final thing he did before inviting his parents round was to schedule a surveyor to appraise the apartment and give him an estimate as to what it was worth. Gavin waited anxiously while the man wandered round - using a little infrared measuring device and jotting down notes on a clipboard. Eventually he was finished and he gave Gavin his expert opinion. "This is really aimed at the luxury market. Much of the quality you've built in doesn't really add to the value very much, but I think in its current condition and in light of the state of the other units in this building, it should probably go on the market for about two hundred and twenty five thousand. "If the other apartments are brought up to the same standard, then it could perhaps realise two hundred and seventy five." Gavin's smile was about a mile wide. He had spent more than he had planned to renovate the unit - almost thirty thousand from his stash. That still meant a possible profit on one apartment of over two hundred thousand pounds if he realised the higher valuation. He invited the family round on Saturday morning to see the completed apartment and laughed at Christine as she wandered from feature to feature - oohing and aahing over everything. "I must admit I didn't believe the figures you were talking about," she said, "but seeing it now - oh my, it's absolutely beautiful." "I can't believe you've managed to achieve all this, son and in only a few weeks. How did you manage it?" Glen asked. He was busily trying to work out where Gavin could have found the money to pay for all of the furnishings in the apartment, never mind the work that had been done. "I did a lot of the labour myself and used the company name to get an extended line of credit with the contractors," Gavin lied, "I really need to sell this off quickly before they start demanding payment." He saved the best bit for last. "I had a surveyor come in yesterday to value it. He reckons it could go for up to two hundred and seventy five thousand." There were gasps all round as the family realised that selling one apartment would more than pay off the cost of the entire building. Gavin didn't add that he had already advertised the apartment for sale. He didn't agree with the surveyor that the state of the rest of the building would necessarily deflate the property's value and was keen to test the market place. Once more he was really pleased with himself and what he had achieved. The only blot on the landscape was the continuing urge he had to go out onto Glasgow's streets and once again become the vigilante. Fiona had helped enormously with that, visiting frequently to make love with her brother. ------- Gavin's university course started on September 8th and by then he had made good progress on the second apartment. He knew he wouldn't be able to do as much once his studies began and was trying if at all possible to get the second unit completed. He had had a number of people round to view the first apartment, but so far no one had been willing to meet his asking price of two hundred and seventy five thousand and he was considering lowering it. He knew he had enough cash to finish the second apartment, but not enough to do another after that. Poor cash flow was the cause of many new businesses failing, but he wasn't too worried as yet. When Gavin's lecturers found out that he actually had a real company going, he became their pet student. The upshot was that he found himself getting invaluable advice from them - and all for free. One of the suggestions that had been made held out real promise he thought. "What you need is a good marketing strategy," one of his Professors advised. "You need to have some artwork or photography done that shows the building as it will be when it's all done. Take advance orders for the apartments and ask for deposits to generate some capital to help refurbish your other units." Gavin had searched the Internet for options and had arranged to meet with three different companies to discuss possible options. He was buoyed by the potential this new approach might hold, but wasn't aware that a real crisis was only a day away. ------- Some of Gavin's class mates decided to meet up for a few drinks at the student's bar. Gavin was invited but wasn't sure about going, as he didn't drink alcohol. Eventually he decided to go along on the basis that they were still getting to know each other and it would probably be considered boorish not to join in. It was a decision he would quickly regret. There were eight in the group and they agreed to meet up and go for a meal first. The unanimous choice was Indian and they all tucked into curries, sharing side dishes of naan bread, pakora and lamb kebabs. The bill was divided up between them and a tip calculated. The food was delicious and it was a good start to the night they all agreed before adjourning and walking the short distance to Strathclyde University's student union. Gavin stuck to drinking diet coke, but his classmates were all drinking beers. An hour after they had entered the bar, Gavin was considering calling it a night when it happened. He felt a presence behind him and turned round to find himself face to face with Lizzie Houston. He was dumbstruck and simply stared at the girl, well aware of who she was. For her part Lizzie examined his face closely for several moments before speaking. "It is you, isn't it?" she asked. Gavin's instincts kicked in. "I'm sorry?" he replied, putting on a puzzled expression. "It's you, I know it is," Lizzie asserted. "I'm really sorry, miss. Do I know you from somewhere? Perhaps you're getting me mixed up with someone else?" Gavin responded. "Your eyes look exactly as I remember them," said Lizzie, a dreamy look on her face. "Look guys, I've got a paper I need to finish so I'm going to head off," said Gavin to his friends. "Miss, it was nice to meet you." With that, Gavin beat a hasty retreat from the bar and tried to get himself under control once he was on the street. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Lizzie had followed him out of the bar. He quickly took steps to lose her before walking back to the apartment. Once inside he sat down with his head in his hands. He reviewed the incident and what he had said and could only hope she would simply think she was mistaken and let it drop. "It's impossible she could recognise me from simply looking at my eyes!" he told himself. His hopes were dashed in the very first class the next day. One of the group he had been out with sought him out before the lecture began. "Hey Gavin! Gavin! You shouldn't have left when you did last night. There was this really cute girl asking about you, who you were, what course you were on. I think she has the hots for you man." Gavin felt his heart sinking. Throughout the day he felt physically sick and eventually he decided to duck out of his last class and go home. He looked around him continually, alert for any sign of Lizzie, but he didn't spot her. Once back at the apartment, he sent Fiona a text asking her to come round to visit him as soon as possible. It was an anxious wait of two hours before his sister arrived. Once she was in the apartment, Fiona threw her arms round him and waited for one of his trademark kisses. She knew something was badly wrong when he removed her arms and led her over to the sofa without the kiss. "What is it, bro? What's wrong?" she asked with concern. "I think I'm in big trouble, Fi. Big trouble," he replied. "What? Gavin, tell me what's happened?" Fiona demanded. "I was out with some of the other students last night and Lizzie Houston came up to me in the bar. She recognised me, I don't know how, but she recognised me. She asked my friends what my name was and what course I was on. Fi, she knows. The police could be walking through that door any minute," he said. "Hold on, hold on! What did she say?" Fiona asked, obviously not convinced. "She stared at me and said 'It is you, isn't it'. I played the big daft laddie and told her she must have mistaken me for someone else, but then she said 'Your eyes look exactly as I remember them'. Christ Fi, how could she identify me from my eyes?" Gavin asked. Fiona's hope was extinguished. Lizzie's words made it clear to her that she had been right about the girl's reaction to her brother. His eyes were imprinted on her memory and in all likelihood she had relived her moments with him again and again. Fiona knew what it was like to obsess over Gavin, she herself had done so for four years before they had finally become lovers. She knew this wasn't good news, that Lizzie wouldn't simply let it drop. ------- Chapter 14: Dealing with Lizzie Fiona looked at her brother - for once he looked rattled and that wasn't like him at all. In all the time she had known him he had been so self-assured and confident, not cocky, arrogant or big-headed but definitely confident. It shook her to see him like this and she knew she had to do whatever she could to help resolve the situation. "She won't let it drop, Gavin. At worst she thinks she's in love with you and at best she has a serious infatuation," she said. "You're not helping, Fi. What am I going to do?" Gavin asked. "Well I'm pretty sure you're not going to kill her. Trying to ignore her will only make things worse, I know, because you tried that with me for years. I think the only thing left to try is to befriend her so that she doesn't share your secret with anybody else," suggested Fiona. There was one other possibility that she had thought of, but she wasn't going to share that with her brother at this stage. "What exactly do you mean by 'befriend her'?" Gavin asked, his senses prickling. "Well, she's not going to be satisfied with some kind of half-hearted relationship, I know that much. How far you'll need to take it is difficult to say though, you might need to take it all the way," Fiona cautioned. "No! How can you just sit there and say that? How can you calmly suggest I have a sexual relationship with someone else?" Gavin demanded. "I'm not suggesting for minute that I'm happy about the idea! When you think about the alternative - you being in prison for a very long time - it seems like the least worst option!" Fiona snapped. Gavin shook his head in disbelief. "Anyway, why are you complaining? She's cute, most boys would be happy to have someone like her throwing themselves at them!" Fiona added. "Fi, I love you not anybody else, I love you!" he snapped in reply. ------- Gavin resisted for two more days, days that he didn't go to any classes to ensure he didn't have to face Lizzie if she came looking for him. He did meet with the representatives of the marketing companies, but his attention wasn't really focussed. Fortunately he had insisted Fiona meet with them too - she was after all the artistic one in the family. It was largely her who chose the best pitch and agreed what would be produced by way of a promotional booklet for St Mungo's Heights. She was able to discuss options quite knowledgeably and felt that the final product would serve its purpose well. Eventually the constant stress of waiting for the hammer to fall, of jumping every time he imagined the police were at the door, wore him down. Gavin knew he had to do something. Even his Sensei had noticed how distracted and out of sorts he was at the dojo - the one place he always felt centred. As to what it was that he was going to do, he couldn't think of any ideas and he wasn't even considering what Fiona had come up with. He knew he wouldn't be proud of himself for basically stringing Lizzie along, but he needed to come up with something, his continued liberty depended on it. ------- DI MacIntosh was sitting at the back of Glasgow's High Court. In the dock were two of the O'Reilly gang, on trial for one of the tit-for-tat shootings that had erupted some weeks before. Drew often took the time to see judgement passed on cases he was familiar with. "One day soon I'll have the vigilante up there in the dock, one day soon, I fucking promise myself that!" ------- Fraser had noticed that Cullen was taking it much easier on him. He believed the gang boss had admitted to himself that Fraser had been right all along. The leak of details about the vigilante had done nothing to help them find him, but instead had led to copycat attacks. Fraser managed to get away again and drove to his spot. Three hours later there was still no sign of what he came here to see - but it was sometimes like that and he wasn't worried. He'd still had the hours to himself to think through his position inside the Cullen clan once more. Increasingly, he didn't like the conclusions he was coming to. ------- Fiona had tried to be around the apartment as much as possible over the past few days, worried about her darling brother and determined to be there for him as he had been there for her when she needed him most. She tried to relieve his stress the only way she knew how - by enticing him into making love to her. Tonight she planned to get a little inventive, a little bit more adventurous. Tonight she thought she might make use of one of the whirlpool baths as part of her mission to help Gavin relax, with a little bit of herself thrown in too of course. She had brought a range of oils and salts with her from home and Gavin was going to get the full treatment. Fiona didn't say anything about her plans when she arrived at the apartment and simply let Gavin offload for a while. "Fi, I can't go on like this, I'm climbing the bloody walls. I've decided I need to tackle things head on," said Gavin. Fiona knew that he would eventually realise this, so she wasn't surprised. "It's a bit of a no-brainer, bro. I've already told you what you'll need to do, you just need to get your head round it," Fiona replied. "I said I've decided I need to tackle it, Fi, not that I was going to run with your crazy idea. I'm afraid you're stuck with me sis!" Fiona just smiled to herself, she thought she knew better. Gavin caught the smirk and started to get quite annoyed at the way Fiona was apparently driving him towards Lizzie. He was still young, inexperienced and didn't have the first idea of how women's minds worked. Twenty years later he would tell himself the same thing. Gavin watched Fiona get up and head towards the bedroom. When she didn't indicate he should join her, he decided to try and rustle up something for her to eat. Moments later he heard the taps running and guessed she had decided to make use of the whirlpool bath while she was here. Five minutes or so later Fiona re-appeared and took his hand, pulling him towards the back of the apartment and the en suite. "You need to relax more, bro. I've drawn you a nice bath and I'm going to wash your back for you." When they entered the bathroom, Gavin took in the various smells and the tea-lights burning around the bath. The whirlpool was running at its lowest setting and he had to admit it looked inviting. Fiona began to slowly unbutton his shirt and then unsnapped his jeans, letting them drop to the floor. Gavin stepped out of them and felt Fi's hands pulling down his boxers. Once she had him naked, Fiona led him over to the bath and urged him to get in. The temperature was just right for Gavin and he sighed with pleasure as he sank into the water. "What are the smells?" he asked. "The burner has got Lavender oil in it and the bath salts match," Fiona answered, "Lavender is supposed to be good for relaxing. Just don't turn the whirlpool up to high or the salts will foam up too much." Gavin closed his eyes and let his body soak up the heat from the water. He felt movement as Fiona slid onto the ledge of the bath behind him. Fingers started to massage his neck and shoulder muscles, easing the tension he hadn't even realised was there. He groaned his appreciation. "Oh, that's good, Fi, it feels great." "You're so tight, bro. You're going to have to realise that having a relationship with Lizzie is the only way to sort this out. The sooner you do and act on it the better, you can't continue to stress out like this." "Mmmmmm, oh, press a little harder there, yes right there, ahhhh. You know, I wish you'd stop going on about Lizzie, Fi. It wouldn't be very nice to strike up a relationship with her just to buy her silence. That seems, oh I don't know, kind of shallow, you know?" Gavin felt Fiona's legs slip into the bath behind him and he turned to look at her. Somehow the little minx had managed to shed her own clothes and she was now perched on the edge of the bath, facing him in all her glory. "Mmmm, why would I even think about another woman when I've got all this to look forward to? You are so beautiful, sis. You know I love you." Fiona was pleased, she knew she would never tire of hearing him say those words. Women are single-minded creatures however; they're also deceptively tough and are willing to endure a lot to keep the man of their choice safe. Fiona was convinced that sharing Gavin was the only way she could keep him out of jail and if that's what it took, she was more than willing to make that sacrifice. "This isn't about love, bro. This is about liberty and whether we'll be able to share moments like these into the future. A fat lot of good you're going to be to me if you're banged up in Barlinnie Prison! Just be nice to the girl, she might not even want to go too far," Fiona said. Gavin's annoyance re-surfaced. She just wouldn't leave it alone and it was getting under his skin. "Are you really sure you want me to do this to Lizzie?" As he asked the question he began to kiss and trail his tongue along the inside of her left thigh. "Are you sure, sis?" His tongue and lips teased their way down the inside of her right thigh. Gavin heard Fiona's breath catch in her throat and her legs spread just a little more in invitation. "What about here, sis? Are you okay with the idea of my tongue licking Lizzie's little pussy instead of yours, licking her like this?" Gavin was in no mood to prolong the gentle treatment. Fiona's persistence about Lizzie rankled and he was trying to teach her a lesson now. His tongue plunged into her steaming sex and he lashed upwards, not sparing her clit. "Aaahhhhhhhh, uuggghhhhhh!" Fiona gasped. "Would it be okay for me to play with her clit, sis?" Gavin didn't wait for an answer, he took Fiona's hard little nub between his teeth and nipped it quite hard several times. "Oh god, aaaaiiieeeee, aaaaiiieeeee!" Gavin could feel the amount of lubrication Fiona was producing, as it flooded his nose and mouth. She was always responsive, but this felt more than normal, there was far more of her musky juice than he could ever remember. He lashed his tongue across her pleasure bud again and again, holding her thighs down as she bucked under his assault. "Yes, bro, yeesssss, eat me, lick me, lick meeeeee!" Gavin thought she was enjoying it too much. His intention was to teach her a lesson, not get her off. He pulled back from her slit abruptly and rose onto his knees. "Is this what you want, is it sis, is this what you want? Do you want me to stick my hard cock into Lizzie instead of you? That's what you're asking me to do isn't it? You're asking me to fuck Lizzie, aren't you? Do you want me to fuck her just like this?" Gavin rammed himself up to the hilt in one violent thrust. "Yeesss, oh god, oh god, yeeessss!" cried Fiona. Her reaction was so violent that Gavin began to wonder if his minx of a sister wasn't just a little turned on by the thought of him with the other girl. "Is that it, Fi? Do you want me to fuck her? Do you? Tell me dammit. Do you want me to slam my cock into her juiced up little pussy, is that it?" He hit a fast rhythm, banging into her harder than he ever had before, forcing her back against the wall behind the bath. "Yes, bro, yeeess, yeeesss, do it, fuck her!" moaned Fiona. Gavin was stunned. His kinky little sister was getting off on the idea of him fucking Lizzie. "So, you do want me to fuck her. Do you want me to pin her to the bed and ride her hard? Like this?" he demanded. Despite their position, Gavin increased the pace and strength of his strokes until he was pistoning into Fiona as hard as he could. He felt her shudder violently under him and she let out a loud wail as she came, almost as quickly as she had the first time they had been together. "Aaaahhhhh, aaaaahhhhh, aaaiiiieeeeee!" Gavin was so shocked by Fiona's admission that his mind was focussed on that and not on his own pleasure. As a result he knew he wasn't even close to cumming yet and he continued to stroke through his sister's orgasm. "Why do you want me to fuck Lizzie, sis? Why? Do you just get off on the idea or is it something else? Maybe you want to watch me pushing my hard cock into her, eh? Maybe you want to watch your brother fucking little Lizzie, is that it?" "Yes, oh god yes. Yes I want to watch you do it, I want to watch you fuck her, yeeesssss!" Gavin could feel Fiona's vaginal muscles gripping him fiercely as he continued to drive into her repeatedly. "God, you are a minx! You want to watch me fucking her, slamming my cock into her just like I'm doing to you now. You want to watch her scraping the skin off of my back, hear her screaming as she cums for me. You want to be there. You want to stare at my cock driving in and out of her pussy, battering her clit and driving her wild. You want me to take her, own her, make her mine don't you!" "Oh god yes, do it bro, take her, take her, fuck her!" "Wait a minute. You said she was pretty and then you said she was cute. Maybe it's more than just watching. Maybe you want to do her yourself! Do you? Is that it sis, do you want to do it? Do you want to fuck Lizzie? Do you?" It was as if he had lit a firecracker. Fiona squealed and thrust her pelvis forward to smash into his forward thrust. "Yeeessssssssssss, fuck yeeessssssssssssssssssss, oh god, oh fuck, yeessssssssssssssssssssssss!" The mental picture that provided Gavin was more than he could take and he felt himself shooting almost painfully, deep inside his sister. He threw his head back and howled as his cream fired over and over again. Gavin was exhausted and slid down into the bath. Fiona slid into the water and rested her head against his shoulder as they both tried to recover their senses. At last Gavin pulled back to look at his sister. Fiona blushed as she worried about what he would think of her admissions. "That was so hot! You know, you are pretty kinky for a sixteen-year-old. Where in the name of hell did all this come from?" he asked. Fiona shook her head to indicate she didn't want to talk about it. "Uh uh, no way are you avoiding answering this one, sis. Out with it, what was that all about you little minx?" Fiona eventually caved in. "Okay, okay. It started with an idea I had. There was another alternative that I didn't suggest to you, another way that might help ensure Lizzie doesn't let your secret out." "What?" Gavin demanded, hope written on his face. "Don't get your hopes up! I thought that if I could get something over Lizzie, something really big, then that would guarantee she would keep quiet. I thought... , I mean... , the idea was ... Oh god, I can't believe I'm telling you this!" "Just spit it out!" "Okay, I thought that I could tell her that we couldn't trust her without some kind of insurance. I think that she's so hot for you that she'll do almost anything to make you happy, including anything that re-assures you she won't squeal. I thought that I could persuade her to let me take some explicit photos of her. The deal would be that if she squealed, the photos would go to the press, her parents, her friends and be posted on the Internet. "But, the more I thought about taking the photos, the hotter I got. First I imagined photos of you and her making love and that got my motor running big-time. Then I thought it would be even more embarrassing for her if the photos were girl on girl. As soon as I thought of that I almost wet myself it was so hot, I came just by pressing my thighs together. "Jesus! That is hot, sis!" "I know we can't do it for real, but god it was intense just thinking about it!" ------- Trying to get the memory of the steamy session with Fiona out of his head and still feeling very apprehensive without a plan, Gavin returned to university the next day. He was on tenterhooks as he moved between classes, anticipating some kind of approach from Lizzie. There was no sign of the girl on his first day back and his attention in class suffered badly. The next morning however, he spotted her hovering outside his first class of the day. Gavin could see the exact moment when she recognised him coming through the milling students, her whole body stiffened and she clutched her book bag tightly against her chest. He knew there was little point in prolonging the moment so simply walked up to her. "Er, hi," he said. Lizzie's face was turning an attractive colour of pink and she seemed incapable of speech all of a sudden. "Look, I'm sorry for the other night but you really surprised me. I needed a little time to think. How's about we grab a coffee or something?" Gavin asked. Lizzie managed to nod her head to indicate she would be happy to share a coffee. "I've got some free time around eleven, can you make it to the cafeteria about then?" he asked. Again Lizzie nodded. "Okay, see you then. Listen, you need to lighten up okay? I'm not going to bite, you know that. My job is to look after fair maidens, not hurt them. See you at eleven." Impulsively, Gavin bent forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek before heading into the room where his class was due. He glanced over his shoulder when he reached the door and saw that Lizzie was still rooted to the spot, her hand now held against the cheek he had kissed. Giving her a final wave, he made it into class. An hour of economics and an hour of competitive business environments later, Gavin stashed his books in his rucksack and made his way to the cafeteria. He couldn't see Lizzie, so bought two Costa Coffees and found a quiet table off in a corner. A few minutes later Lizzie appeared looking slightly breathless, as if she had rushed to make it on time. Gavin waved to attract her attention and Lizzie moved to join him. "I got you a latte, I wasn't sure but took a wild guess! There's sugar here if you need it," he said. "Latte is fine, thanks." "Lizzie, can you at least try and relax? You look tighter than a drum. Lighten up." "I'm sorry, it's just - I never expected to see you again. When I saw you in the bar the other night I wasn't sure at first. When I saw you up close, when I could see your eyes, then I was sure, but I didn't know what to do, what to say. I knew I wanted to see you again and I found out your name. It's Gavin isn't it? Gavin MacSween?" "Gavin MacSween at your service ma'am," Gavin smiled as he reached across the table and took Lizzie's hand, lifting it and gently bringing down his lips to kiss to soft skin. Lizzie blushed furiously again. "I need to know if you've told anyone about me," Gavin said, holding her eyes with his. "Of course not! I know how much trouble you would be in, I'd never risk that by telling anyone, not even my parents!" Lizzie replied firmly. For the first time since she had approached him in the bar, Gavin felt a little relief. Her response seemed absolutely genuine and he really believed she would try to keep his secret. "So, what now?" he asked. "I don't know. I imagined you to be older. That was one of the things that had me doubting at first when I saw you," she replied. Gavin shrugged. "I saw you on TV the other week, you scrub up well," he said. Lizzie blushed again. The conversation was difficult, disjointed, strained even and Gavin knew things weren't going well. "Did you just want to confirm it really was me that night or was there something else?" he asked. "I wanted to be able to thank you, really thank you. I was terrified you know. I thought he really was going to rape me and then kill me. I was praying, praying for a miracle and then you turned up." "The Lord works in mysterious ways it seems. You don't need to thank me, if anything I should be thanking you. You see, I had been thinking about the rapist for months, wondering how I could find him and stop him," Gavin said. "Really?" Lizzie seemed impressed by this. "You know he raped six other people?" Gavin asked. She nodded. "I know, I read all about him in the newspapers after he was found dead and they linked him to the rapes. Did you really, you know, did you really cut off his, his thing and make him eat it?" she asked, her pupils dilating. "Maybe we should talk about something else," Gavin suggested, "why were you in the bar the other night?" "I guess the same as you. I was out with some of the people on my course," she replied. "Oh, so you're studying here?" "Psychology, I'm in my first year" she replied. Gavin gave her a genuine smile for the first time. "Now that could come in handy!" he said. "You have a lovely smile. I remember it from that night too. It's warm and friendly and made me feel safe," said Lizzie. "Thanks, but you know, I think you need to try and put the whole thing behind you, Lizzie. Situations like that can do funny things to our heads, you know. Small things get blown out of proportion. You've just said yourself that you imagined I was older. I'm just seventeen like you, nothing to write home about really." She shook her head as if to disagree with him. "Would you go out with me sometime?" she asked, blurting it out. Gavin knew that it had taken a lot for her to ask that question and he considered carefully before he answered. "Are you sure you want to be mixed up with someone like me, especially knowing what you know?" "Oh, I'm sure alright. I've never been more sure about anything in my life. I haven't been able to think about anything else for weeks but never thought I would see you again. I thought my heart was going to stop when you were there in front of me, I almost died." Gavin could read it in her eyes. It was the same look that Fiona gave him, a kind of predatory, hungry look only softened by the love that was there too. He sighed; this was a complication he just didn't need. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of how this girl felt about him or to break her heart. "You don't want to go out with me, do you? I promise I'm not a bunny-boiler, I would just appreciate the chance to get to know you a little better," she said "I'm not sure it's a good idea - for your sake," he replied. Lizzie laughed. "What?" he asked. "I was just about to say - don't worry about me, I can look after myself - but you know that's not altogether true, don't you?" Gavin smiled at her black humour. "Okay, why don't I take you out to a movie or dinner or something?" he asked. "Dinner would be nice, we wouldn't be able to talk much if we went to a movie," she replied. "Okay my Lady, dinner it is then." Lizzie gave Gavin her mobile number. She didn't seem too surprised when he didn't offer to share his. He promised to call her later once he had figured out where to go. ------- Fiona was waiting outside the apartment when he made it home at the end of classes. He nodded to let her know that he had seen Lizzie and she couldn't wait to get him inside to hear all of the details. "Oh boy, she's got it bad hasn't she?" Fiona suggested. "I'm afraid she has. I'm going to have to be really careful and let her down gently," said Gavin. "I think you need to consider that again, bro. I don't think this girl is going to let go. She won't take no for an answer, I know I didn't, despite the number of times you ignored me." Having spoken to Lizzie now, Gavin was beginning to understand what Fiona was driving at. "I've agreed to take her out to dinner," he said. "Oh great! You're not trying to make an impression on her, but you ask her out to dinner! Gavin, how do you think she feels about that? At seventeen, how many times has a guy taken her out to dinner? You haven't even taken me out to dinner, you ass." Gavin had to think about that. He realised he didn't read as much into actions and gestures as girls did. He remembered he had kissed Lizzie's cheek and her hand - would she have read something into those too? He asked Fiona. "You overgrown klutz! Of course she read something into you doing that! You're just a natural romantic, aren't you, you don't even realise you're doing it? You're digging a big hole, bro and it's getting deeper all the time." ------- Gavin phoned Lizzie later and agreed to pick her up the next night. He had booked a table at an Italian restaurant for 7pm. The booking was early as he hoped they could have a meal and a talk, but then split up before things became too awkward. The advance copy of the marketing leaflet arrived the next morning and Gavin was impressed by the job the company had done. It showed St Mungo's Heights exactly as he wanted it to look once it was finished. He left the brochure on the table in the apartment, knowing that Fiona would have to approve it too, then set off for his day at the university. ------- Lizzie had a difficult day. She couldn't concentrate on anything other than the fact that she had a date with Gavin later. He had turned out to be much younger than in her fantasies, but there was nothing about him to be disappointed in. Seeing him without a jacket on, she had devoured his physique. There was something about broad, muscular shoulders that girls found such a turn-on and Gavin had that in spades. Then there were his eyes and his smile. They were the things she remembered most from that night in the park, they were the things that made her wet when she slept and they were just as arousing when she met him again. All in all, her knight in shining armour was hot, she decided. Each time she thought about her date she felt herself getting tingly and wet between her legs. "Oh god, maybe Little was right, maybe I am a slut. Look at me, I can't stop thinking about him, I'm like a bitch in heat. Mmmm, but it would be different being a slut for Gavin, much, much different! Listen to yourself girl, get a grip! You are not a slut and you will behave yourself tonight or you'll frighten the poor guy off!" Lizzie actually laughed out loud at this last thought. It was unlikely that Gavin would be easily frightened, not given what she knew he was capable of. The boy in the seat next to her gave her a funny look, as if to say she was perhaps a little crazy laughing to herself for no apparent reason. ------- Gavin picked her up in a taxi at 6:45pm. He had debated whether or not to use the van but thought that would make the wrong impression. There was also a strong argument for keeping the vehicle and his mobility a secret from Lizzie for now - she already knew too much! Gavin was impressed by how she looked. Her outfit was simple enough - black pants, a lowish-cut black blouse and a little bolero jacket. What made her stand out though was what she had done with her hair and her make-up. The hair was perfect, framing her face and she had applied subtle touches of eyeliner, shadow and something else to bring out her brown eyes and highlight her distinctive cheekbones. The overall effect was quite stunning and Gavin grinned from ear to ear. Lizzie was pleased with the reaction her appearance inspired in him and linked arms on the short walk to the waiting taxi. The restaurant was nice, wasn't too busy and had reasonable music playing quietly. A waiter showed them to a table and lit the candle that formed part of the centrepiece. Gavin and Lizzie both ordered cokes and nibbled breadsticks as they looked through the menu to choose what they would have to eat. "What do you fancy as a starter?" Gavin asked. "I'm not really used to all this. I've never been out for a meal before without my parents. Why don't you choose for me?" she replied. "Well what do you like and what do you absolutely hate?" he asked. "I don't know really," Lizzie replied. "Okay, do you feel adventurous enough to have the cozze a la marinara as a starter?" "Well that depends, what is it?" she asked. "It's mussels cooked in white wine and garlic," Gavin answered. "Gosh, I'm not sure." "I know, I'll order bruschetta and the cozze and you can try both!" The conversation was still strained between them as they waited for their starters to arrive. Eventually Gavin couldn't take it any more. "Look. Lizzie! Stop trying so hard, just be yourself and try and enjoy the meal." Lizzie realised she was so uptight she was actually annoying her date. That was the last thing she wanted and Gavin's words were like a dash of cold water on her face. She consciously tried to calm down and act more naturally. Gavin noticed the difference immediately and began to enjoy her company. She was a bright girl with an interest in music and her studies. Lizzie also had some strong opinions about politics and that made for some lively exchanges between them. It tuned out that Lizzie adored the mussels and they had a competition between them to see how quickly they could eat so they could have more than the other could. The bruschetta was somewhat ignored. Gavin had chosen bistecca pizzialoa for both of them as a main course. The Sirloin steaks were cooked to perfection and came topped with black olives, onions and tomatoes. Side dishes of potatoes and steamed vegetables came with the steak. "Oh, this is to die for!" said Lizzie, "Mmmmmmmm." Gavin laughed at her reaction. He smiled to see her fully relaxed now and enjoying herself. When the waiter asked them if they wanted a sweet, Gavin let Lizzie answer first. He didn't have a sweet tooth and rarely had a sweet, but he didn't want to put her off is she did want one. "Emm, no thanks, I don't think I could do it justice to be honest," Lizzie told the waiter. "Just coffee please," Gavin ordered. He opened up a little more over coffee and explained about St Mungo's Heights and his plans to make a fortune. "That's pretty impressive, I mean, not many people our age have got their own business," Lizzie said. Gavin would soon realise that he had given Lizzie the opening she had been looking for from the moment he had agreed to take her out for dinner. He paid the bill and asked the waiter to phone them a taxi. While they were waiting for the cab to arrive, Lizzie made her play. "Surely you're not going to send me home without seeing these wonderful luxury apartments of yours?" she pouted. Alarm bells rang in Gavin's head, but he couldn't think of a polite way of saying no. When the taxi arrived, he directed the driver to Renfrew Street and five minutes later they were there. Gavin gave her the full tour of the apartment and she was almost like a carbon copy of Christine - oohing and aahing at everything. When he showed her the first of the bedrooms he knew there was going to be trouble. Her eyes remained riveted on the bed for a fraction too long and then flicked to him. Before he could defuse the situation, Lizzie sidled up to him and put her arms round his neck. "I know you like me a bit, you like the way I look, I think. I'm not normally anywhere near as forward as this, believe me. I know I've been obsessing about you since you saved me, but that doesn't change the fact that I want you to make love to me Gavin. "I know what you've done and I'm scared, but no matter how scared I am, I really don't want to be safe tonight. Please make love to me?" Gavin was lost - how to respond to such a heartfelt request. Her brown eyes were almost hypnotic now they were so close and he felt himself drowning in them. Nervously and tentatively, Lizzie leaned in to kiss him. Her lips were sweet and soft and he let himself go with the flow. Lizzie was not at all like Fiona, being a sexual aggressor was not in her nature and she had played all of her cards now. The rest was up to Gavin, if something was going to happen between them, he would have to take the lead. Their kiss deepened and for an instant Gavin thought he was with Fiona. Lizzie felt the electricity generated by the amazing kiss and the few doubts she had about doing this disappeared. She moaned softly, her breath brushing between them as their kiss continued. Abruptly, Gavin came to his senses and realised what he was doing. He pulled back from Lizzie and looked at her. "Lizzie, I can't do this. You're right, I do find you attractive and fun to be with. But, I'm in love with someone else and I couldn't cheat on her. I'm really sorry. Before this gets too embarrassing I'm going to leave. Just pull the door closed behind you and I'll give you a ring tomorrow. Okay?" Gavin didn't hang around waiting for an answer. He snatched up his rucksack and literally ran from the apartment. ------- Gavin had told Fiona his plan to eat early and try and finish the night with Lizzie before it got too late. She had to know how things had gone and headed round to the apartment just after 10pm. By now she had her own keys and she let herself in, only to find a tearful Lizzie sitting in the lounge. "What's happened? Where's Gavin?" she demanded. Lizzie looked up through her tears. "Who are you?" "I'm Fiona Anderson, Gavin's sister. Where is he?" "He left. I'm afraid I frightened him off." Fiona could see that something had gone badly wrong. She knew that Gavin kept several bottles of wine in the apartment for when people came round to view and she thought now was probably a good time to liberate one. "I think we need to have some girl talk," she said to Lizzie. Fiona quickly opened a bottle of Chardonnay and poured two glasses. "Here, drink some of this, it will make you feel better." Lizzie took the glass and swigged back half of the drink in one go. She started to cough as it went down the wrong way. "Ease up, sister. Sipping is the best way," said Fiona, "now, do you want to tell me about it?" The story gradually came tumbling out. "I really thought he liked me. His eyes were on stalks when he picked me up, I couldn't be wrong about that, he thought I looked nice." "I bet he did, Lizzie." "How do you know my name?" Lizzie asked. "Oh, my brother tells me most things." "I came on too strong, I know I did. I'm not really like that and I probably came across as clumsy at best. He told me he was in love with someone else and then he left," said Lizzie. Lizzie opened a second bottle of wine and topped their glassed up. "How come your name is Anderson and Gavin's is MacSween? I thought you said he was your brother?" Lizzie asked. "That's a long story, but I think you need to hear it. No, I think you deserve to hear it." Fiona explained how Gavin's mother had been raped and killed, leaving Gavin as an orphan. She told how her parents had adopted Gavin and admitted that she also knew about Gavin's vigilante activities. Fiona also described how her brother had come to her rescue that fateful day in school. "He's had an awful lot to deal with. He's in love with you, isn't he?" Lizzie asked. Fiona nodded. "I had to work hard for four years to get him to admit it, but yes we are lovers. He's not my real brother after all and as you know, it's easy to love him." "What do you mean?" asked Lizzie in panic. "Lizzie, I saw it in your eyes on the TV. I can see it in your eyes, even in your body language, right now. You love him, don't you? He does that to us - he comes riding over the hill on his big white horse and saves us and we just fall at his feet." "I do love him. He was worried I would tell the police who he was, but I couldn't ever do that," said Lizzie. Fiona laughed. "What?" asked Lizzie. Fiona topped up the wineglasses once more before answering. She explained some of what she had told Gavin about her plan to take out an insurance policy to make sure Lizzie couldn't go to the police. She left out the details of how she herself had been so turned on by the images her idea had conjured up. "I will if that helps," said Lizzie. Before Fiona could respond, her mobile phone rang. "Hi," she said. "Fi, it's me. I've ... I've been shot. I've lost too ... much ... blood to be able to drive safely. I'm sorry to drag you into this again, but I've got nowhere else to go. Can you help me ... please?" "Oh god!" Fiona cried. "What? What is it?" Lizzie demanded. "It's Gavin, he's been shot!" ------- Chapter 15: ups and downs Gavin pulled the door of the apartment building closed behind him and almost ran to the van. He knew it was a mistake to bring Lizzie back here and he had been proven right. The van was moving before he even realised what he was doing and he shook his head to clear it and focus on the road. A quick glance told him where he was and he grinned to himself. His subconscious had steered him in the direction of the Parkhead area of Glasgow and Gavin knew why. The third drug house he had scoped out was situated on the busy Shettleston Road and Gavin knew his current mood was edging him towards attacking it. That realisation started the adrenaline flowing and helped wipe out all thoughts about Lizzie and what he had left behind in the apartment. There was only the immediate future to worry about, the immediate future and some criminals who had a date with destiny. Twenty minutes later, he parked the van just off of Edinburgh Road and backtracked to a point where he could watch the pusher. It didn't take him long to pick up on the fact that the pusher now had a pair of minders, sitting in a car parked twenty yards further up the road. Gavin knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to take out the pusher as he had done with the other two drug hits. He wasn't too concerned about that, as using the pusher and the supply car wouldn't be such a big help in taking down the house he was going after now. It wouldn't make much difference to just to miss out the pusher and go directly for the house itself. A further ten minutes of careful navigation brought him to the street that paralleled Shettleston Road to the rear of the house he was targeting. The house was actually two houses that had been converted into one, two former council houses that dated from the 1960s. Gavin knew he couldn't approach from the front, as the garden space in front of the property had all been cleared away so there was absolutely no cover. That was the reason he was on East Wellington Street, so he could head towards the house from the rear. He had already spent quite a few hours simply watching the house over the past months so he knew exactly how he was going to approach it. Gavin slipped down the side of a house on East Wellington Street and entered its back garden. Silently, he pulled himself up onto the roof of the garden shed that butted onto the fence separating this house from the one he was interested in. Gavin flattened himself on the shed roof and remained absolutely still apart from his eyes, which were alert and scanning constantly for any threats. He waited ten minutes before he felt it was safe to move. It was at this point that Gavin's luck ran out. The drug house was owned by the Turnbull clan and they had taken precautions to safeguard it after learning about the hits in Bearsden and Darnley. Additional gang members had been stationed at the house for some weeks now to protect the money, drugs and personnel in it. One of the gang members was stationed in the garden of the property, inside another garden shed on the other side of the fence Gavin was now lowering himself over. After weeks of boring sentry duty, the man had become complacent and had in fact fallen asleep at his post. Although Gavin didn't make any noise, some sense woke the sentry up and he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Rousing himself, the gang member lifted the revolver that sat ready beside him and made for the door of the shed. The fact that he was still a little drowsy from his nap probably saved Gavin's life. He moved clumsily and Gavin heard the noise from the shed immediately. "Fuck! I've blown it! Gavin thought. He changed direction in one fluid motion and headed back for the fence as fast as he could. By the time the gang member managed to get the door of the shed open, Gavin was already hauling himself over the fence. There was time for one hurried shot and Gavin felt a stinging sensation in his side as he tumbled over the fence. The adrenaline was still flooding Gavin's system and the danger leant him added speed. He sprinted down East Wellington Street, dragging off his ski mask and heading in the direction of London Road. A glance over his shoulder told him that there was no immediate pursuit and two turns brought him back to the van. Gavin had the door open in double quick time and pulled the van away from the kerb. A left and then a right brought him onto London Road and he passed Celtic Park, home of Celtic Football Club. His first priority was to get away from the area just in case the police were called, a possibility given the noise of the gunshot. That thought reminded Gavin of the pain in his side and he dropped his left hand to feel along his ribs on his right side. The touch made him flinch and when he raised his hand again he saw that it was covered in fresh red blood. He passed the Gallowgate and turned up Glasgow High Street and then into Castle Street. Gavin felt his head beginning to spin and he found it difficult to keep his eyes focussed on the road. With the immediate danger past, he was becoming more aware of just how painful the wound in his side was. He guessed he was losing a lot of blood and knew he wouldn't be able to make it back to the apartment before he blacked out. Pulling off of the main road, he navigated to a quiet back street. Looking up, he saw it was St Mungo Avenue and he took that as a good omen. He stopped the van and clambered over the seat and into the back. There was a dust cover there and Gavin used it to try and stem the flow of blood while he pulled out his mobile phone. He hit the speed dial button for Fiona's number and heard her answer. "Hi," she said. "Fi, it's me. I've ... I've been shot. I've lost too ... much ... blood to be able to drive safely. I'm sorry to drag you into this again, but I've got nowhere else to go. Can you help me ... please?" He heard Fiona squeal and then tell someone that he had been shot. Gavin mentally kicked himself for not checking that she was alone before saying anything. He assumed his mother or father or both were now also aware of his situation - Fiona wouldn't tell anyone else. Fiona's voice returned to his phone. "Where are you?" she asked, her voice high-pitched, displaying her panic. "You need to calm down, sis. I'm parked-up in a place called St Mungo Avenue; it's not far from the High Street. Somebody needs to come and get me." "Sit tight, bro, we're on the way." ------- The call came into the local London Road police station - a report of what sounded like a gunshot in the vicinity of a well-known gang house on Shettleston Road. The house was a bugbear for local residents and often led them to call out the local force. Despite the report suggesting that a gun had been fired, it was a normal marked patrol car that responded to the call, not an armed response unit. That most probably reflected the number of call-outs that had been answered in the past in relation to the house, all of which had come to nothing. The occupants of the converted house on Shettleston Road pleaded ignorance to any gunshots and suggested it had probably been a car backfiring. Needless to say, the police were not invited inside. The two officers weren't surprised and returned to their car, driving next to the house where the call-out had originated. Both of the constables walked up the path to the house on East Wellington Street and the front door opened as they approached. "Good evening, sir. Would you be Eric Campbell?" "That's right officer," the man replied. "I believe you called-in an incident this evening, sir?" "Yes, I heard a noise at the back - a kind of popping noise - and when I looked out of the kitchen window I saw a man running through my back garden." Mr Campbell led the two officers round the side of his house and into the back garden. "What made you think it was a gunshot sir?" one of the officers asked. "Well it was kind of dark, but the figure ran through the light coming from the kitchen window and he was wearing a ski mask. I immediately thought of the vigilante - he's the one that's been attacking the criminals isn't he and that house over there is certainly full of them!" The mention of the ski mask sparked an immediate reaction from the officers. Everyone on the force was well versed in the details of the vigilante by now. "Exactly how long ago was this, sir?" "About forty minutes or so," Campbell replied. One of the officers walked off a few paces and used his radio to contact the station. "Did you see which direction this man took after he ran through your garden?" the other officer asked. "Aye, he headed down that way, towards London Road." The two officers conferred, one sharing the instructions he had received from the station, the other the detail of which direction their suspect had headed in. "Okay Mr Campbell, I have to ask you not to allow anyone into the garden until we can get somebody here to examine it. I have to stress that there could be important evidence there and we can't have people trampling all over it. Do you understand, sir?" ------- Fraser Gilchrist was safely indoors for the night, watching a re-run of Blazing Saddles on TV. He loved this film and had watched it countless times, but he never tired of it. The film had just reached one of his favourite scenes... "Oh Lord, have we the strength to carry out this mighty task in one night, or are we just jerking off?" ... said the preacher on the screen. At that moment, Fraser's mobile rang. He picked it up off of the table and thumbed the button to answer the call. "Hello?" "Is that you, Gilchrist?" boomed Shanks Turnbull's voice. "Aye, it's me Shanks. To what do I owe the pleasure of a late night call from you?" asked Fraser. "I think this fucking vigilante just tried to hit one of my houses!" replied Turnbull. Fraser forgot all about the film and focussed his attention on the call. "What do you mean - tried?" "I've doubled-up the security around all my places and one of my men caught him sneaking over the back fence. My man got a shot off, but the bastard managed to get away. I don't know if he's been hit or not," Shanks explained. "Okay, Shanks. Thanks for letting me know, I'll try and follow up on it," Fraser advised. He ended the call and immediately contacted one of the Cullen sources within the police force. Fraser was advised that so far no news of another vigilante incident had made it through to the Stewart Street station. "Well I want to know any details as soon as you get them!" Fraser demanded. ------- "Oh god, what am I going to do? I can't even drive!" Fiona wailed. "I can drive," said Lizzie, "I'll come with you." Fiona could see that the other girl was indeed very keen to help. Once again her obsession with Gavin was evident, now she was willingly putting herself in harms way to help him. "Okay, okay. We need to get a taxi," Fiona said. The apartment building was on Renfrew Street, only one street over from Sauchiehall Street and they knew they would be able to find a cab there. They locked up the building and ran down the hill to the busier street, finding a cab in less than a minute. "Ah, St Mungo Avenue please," said Fiona. "Where is that?" the driver asked. "I think it's not far off of the High Street," Fiona replied. The cab driver pulled into traffic and contacted his base to get more detailed directions. "Okay, now I've got it." The trip was only around four miles, but it took fifteen minutes through Glasgow's one-way system. Fiona spotted the van as soon as they turned in to St Mungo's Avenue. By now she had calmed down a bit and was thinking clearly again. She let the cab pass the van and asked to be dropped off on the corner some forty yards away. The fare was seven pounds, twenty pence and she gave the driver a ten pound note. Once the taxi had driven off, Fiona led Lizzie back down the street towards the van. "Where are we going?" Lizzie asked. "That's Gavin's van there, I don't know where he is, but that's his van," Fiona replied. When they drew level with the van, Fiona could see that it was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition. She walked to the passenger side and opened the door to get in. Gavin's form was immediately obvious in the rear of the van and Fiona told Lizzie to get in and drive. "Gavin! Gavin, are you okay?" Fiona demanded. He groaned and lifted his head to see his sister. Turning his head he was surprised to see Lizzie behind the wheel. He knew now wasn't the time to ask questions. "I'm okay, I'm okay sis. Just get me back to the apartment," he managed to get out. Lizzie started the van and experimented with the manual gears, getting the feel for the bite point of the clutch. Once she was satisfied she had it covered, she checked her mirrors carefully and pulled away. Gavin couldn't help laughing as he recognised the signs of someone who had, like him, recently passed their driving test. Ten minutes later Lizzie brought the van to a halt and Gavin looked up to see what was going on. "There's a 24-hour pharmacy over there. I think we might need some supplies," Lizzie explained. It was an anxious ten minutes for Fiona and Gavin waiting for Lizzie to return, but eventually they were on their way once more. The remainder of the journey back to St Mungo's Heights didn't take them long and Fiona was out of the van as soon as Lizzie parked. She wrenched open the back doors and leapt in to hold her brother. "How bad is it?" she asked. "I don't know, help me inside," Gavin replied. He held the dust cover tightly to his side, as Fiona helped him down from the back of the van and gave support up the steps to the entranceway to the apartments. Lizzie carefully locked the van and brought up the rear, the carrier bag full of supplies from the pharmacy dangling from her right hand. Fiona helped Gavin inside the apartment and through to one of the bedrooms. He sat down on the edge of the bed and then collapsed onto his back with a groan. Fiona gingerly took the dust cover and peeled it back to reveal the extent of his wound. She could feel herself struggling to cope with the sight of Gavin's blood and when the raw flesh of the wound was exposed, she felt physically sick. "It's horrible, I think there's a bone sticking out, I just can't look at it," she cried. "Let me see," demanded Lizzie, pushing Fiona aside. Lizzie examined the wound carefully. There was a long furrow, perhaps four inches long and she could indeed see what she assumed was one of Gavin's ribs. She was fairly certain the bullet had just nicked him and a mark on the rib suggested that it might have ricocheted off of the bone. "It's not too bad really, I think the bullet might have glanced off of your rib. That's the bone you can see Fiona - it's a rib," said Lizzie. "How can you bear to look at it?" Fiona asked, her back still turned to the bed. "After you've had a rapist sitting on your chest, with a knife at your throat, something like this is no problem," Lizzie replied, "I'm assuming you don't want to go to hospital with this Gavin?" There was no reply and it became clear that Gavin had passed out. Lizzie decided that that was a blessing given what she had decided to do. "Fiona could you boil a kettle and bring me some hot water please?" she asked. "What are you going to do?" asked Fiona. "I'm going to clean the wound and then stitch it," Lizzie replied, quite matter of fact. ------- Gavin might have been unlucky in one sense - in terms of his attack on the drug house failing and being shot. In another sense his luck held however. The possibility that there had been another vigilante attack wasn't passed on to DI MacIntosh. A perfunctory search of his garden in the daylight had turned up nothing. Gavin had stayed to the pathways at all times and not a single blade of grass looked disturbed. The officers from the London Road police station determined Mr Campbell had in all likelihood introduced the idea of the vigilante as a way to try and get action taken against his criminal neighbours. As a result they wrote off his story and no further action was taken. In turn that meant that there was no detailed forensic examination of Mr Campbell's property, an examination that would have turned up traces of Gavin's blood. Since nothing was passed on to Drew, the Cullen clan's contacts inside the Stewart Street police station were unable to confirm the vigilante had been the one who had tried to hit the Shettleston Road drug house. Gavin's luck had held out after all. ------- Lizzie had applied a liberal coating of antiseptic before strapping the wound she had stitched. Fiona had also volunteered the information that she had a course of antibiotics at home that she had never finished, the prescription issued for a urinary infection she had suffered a number of months previously. Lizzie made Gavin take the Co-Amoxyclav tablets as a further precaution against infection. The girls had also confined him to bed and if the truth be told, he knew he was too weak to be up and about. Simple paracetamol was all that he had to try and dull the pain from his wound, mostly from the rib that must have been hit by the bullet. Lizzie had contacted one of the other students on Gavin's course and brought home notes from the classes he was missing. Gavin tried to stay on top of the notes, but found his tiredness meant that he was sleeping a lot more than normal. Late on the second day after being wounded, he woke to feel the dull pain throbbing away as usual. He forced himself to swing his legs out of bed and shuffled over to the dresser where the paracetamol bottle was sitting. He opened the bottle and shook out two tablets, washing them down with a mouthful of water. He was about to shuffle back to the bed when he heard voices from the bedroom next door. Intrigued, Gavin shuffled to the door and opened it before stepping into the hallway. The neighbouring bedroom was only a few feet away and he could hear Fiona's voice coming from it. "Are you sure you're okay about doing this? I know I said that it was an idea that would reassure Gavin you wouldn't squeal on him, but given what you did the other night, I don't think that's necessary any longer," said Fiona. "If it makes Gavin feel better then we should do it, now hurry up before I change my mind," replied Lizzie. Gavin shuffled forward a few more feet. The door to the room wasn't fully closed and he could see through it. His view took in the mirror doors on the built-in wardrobes - but that in turn opened up most of the room on the other side of the door. He was stunned to see Fiona standing with her digital camera in her hand and Lizzie lying on the double bed. "Surely she isn't going to do what I think she is? Surely Lizzie didn't just suggest that this was her idea? What the hell?" Gavin thought to himself. "Okay, you know these have got to be pretty explicit, don't you?" Fiona asked. "I know. Look, I'm not very experienced at this kind of thing - maybe you could suggest a few poses?" Lizzie responded. Fiona's head was spinning. She had almost forgotten that Lizzie had indicated she would allow the pictures when they had been talking on the night Gavin was shot. When the other girl had brought it up again, her mouth went dry and her panties wet at the possibilities. Now, with her hot fantasy about to be played out in front of her, Fiona was shaking with anticipation. "Emm, maybe you should just take off you blouse and skirt and then we'll take it from there," she suggested. Gavin watched wide-eyed as Lizzie nervously unbuttoned her blouse and then dropped her skirt on the floor. She was wearing a black bra with matching panties and once the skirt was off he could see she was also wearing black hold-ups. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Lizzie's figure so far as he could see. She had curves in all the right places and her boobs were slightly larger than Fiona's. "Right, why don't you lie back and spread you legs for me a little?" Fiona asked. Lizzie assumed the position and Gavin could see Fiona snapping away. "Try freeing your titties and playing with your nipples," Fiona suggested next. Gavin got to see Lizzie's bare breasts for the first time, as she slipped the straps of her bra off of her shoulders and pulled the cups down. Fiona moved from one side of the bed to the other, snapping away. "Wait, this doesn't seem to be working. You look as if you're at the dentist, the look on your face is all wrong, it's like you're being forced to pose. We need something a bit more realistic. Try to get into it. What gets you hot? What do you think about when you're on your own at home?" Fiona asked. "Gavin of course," Lizzie replied quickly. "Stupid question! Okay, imagine you've got Gavin in your hand, imagine you're stroking his hard length," Fiona suggested. "Um, that's kind of difficult. I've only ever seen pictures of a man's penis; I've never touched one. Maybe you could describe what he's like for me?" Lizzie bemoaned. "Oh boy! You are not making this easy girl. Okay. Gavin's about average I guess, just over six inches when he's hard and ready for fun. Imagine one about that size. I was amazed at how soft the skin was on his cock the first time I held it - he was hard as a rock, but the skin was soft. I could also feel his pulse through it and when I learned how to stroke his cock up and down it felt great. "You need to imagine your hand going all the way round it. The skin is kind of loose and when you're stroking, it moves over the hard cockflesh underneath. You need to let your thumb flick over the head of his cock too. The bit where his foreskin joins onto the underside of his cock is so sensitive. "The skin on the head of his cock is like velvet and I just love to run my tongue over it, that drives him crazy," said Fiona. It was clear Fiona's description was not only getting Lizzie worked up, but was also making her hot. "Oh god, you've sucked his cock? You've had Gavin in your mouth?" Lizzie breathed. She had started playing with her nipples again, but this time there was unmistakable lust in her eyes and her tongue was licking her lips. "Uh huh, he likes that, he likes that a lot. Can you imagine him slipping his hard cock into your mouth, Lizzie? Would you like to suck him?" Lizzie nodded and her fingers began to pinch her already swollen nipples. "He's also really good at doing what you're doing now. His hands feel incredible. He knows just how hard to squeeze your nipples, just how much to tease them before he takes them in his mouth and sucks and bites on them." "Oh fuck, I wish I could feel him doing that to me. Oh fuck that's making me feel so hot," moaned Lizzie. Gavin watched her as she stuck the index finger of one hand in her mouth and started sucking on it, almost as if it was a cock. The finger came out and Lizzie spread her own saliva over her nipple, flicking the nub and then pinching it again. "Normally my hands are on his shoulders by now, feeling his hard muscles and trying to keep him in place so he'll suck me and suck me," said Fiona. Gavin could see that she was still taking the odd photo or two as Lizzie started to really get into things. "You're right, he does have incredible shoulders. What does it feel like when he bites your nipples?" asked Lizzie. "It's wonderful. Every time he touches me I feel little sparks of electricity shooting through my body. When he bites my nipples it's like they're connected directly to my pussy and my clit. Normally by now I'd be soaking wet, ready for him," groaned Fiona. Gavin guessed that Fiona was indeed already wet, judging by the way her thighs were squeezing together. "What do you mean - ready for him?" breathed Lizzie. "Ready for his cock, baby. Ready for his hard cock to slip inside my juicy little pussy. Ready for him to nail me, to fuck me hard, to put it in me and make me feel incredible" replied Fiona. Lizzie happened to roll her head to the side at this point and she caught sight of Gavin's reflection in the mirror. The knowledge that her knight, her love, was watching her was so erotic, so hot and she wanted to put on a good show for him. Fiona was finding it hard to breathe as she watched the beautiful girl on the bed in front of her drop her hand towards her own panties. She saw the front panel of the black briefs bulge as the fingers slid downwards and she gulped as she saw Fiona throw her head back on the bed, clearly experiencing a renewed surge of arousal. She captured the moment on camera. "Oh he's good at that too, Lizzie. He knows all the right places to stroke and rub. Once he even bit my clit then swiped his tongue over it again and again until I was screaming," moaned Fiona. "Jeez! He goes down on you? Oh god, oh god, that's sooo hot, so fucking hot!" "He likes to taste me, suck me, lick my little pussy and he's soooo good at it. Would you like Gavin to suck your little pussy Lizzie? Would you like to have his head between your legs right now, his tongue, his lips licking you? Sucking you? Would you?" "Yes! Yes, oh god yes!" Fiona could see the outline of the other girl's fingers moving faster now inside her panties and she desperately wanted to see her sex uncovered, see those fingers driving into that pussy. "Do you want to be a little slut for Gavin, Lizzie? Do you? Do you want to be Gavin's little slut and do all these things with him? Do you want to feel his hard cock filling you up, stretching you wide, making you cum for him? Are you Gavin's little slut? Are you?" Fiona's voice rose, as she got more and more carried away. Fiona wasn't to know that the rapist had called Lizzie a slut as he held his knife to her throat. Lizzie seized up for an instant, but then she realised that instead of being terrified, she was incredibly aroused at the thought of being a slut for Gavin, more excited than she had ever been in her life. Gavin flinched when he heard Fiona use the word slut and he watched in horror as Lizzie's head rolled to the side again and she made eye contact with him. His horror turned to amazement at Lizzie's response. She held his eye so that he was aware she knew he was there and then replied to Fiona's taunt. "Yeeessss, I am Gavin's little slut, but only his, no one else's," she moaned, as she smiled at him. She pulled her black panties to one side to show that two of her fingers were buried in her sopping pussy, while her thumb was strumming her clit. "I'm Gavin's little slut forever and I'll do everything he wants me to. I want him to stick his hard cock inside me and fuck me hard, fuck me, fuck me, oh Gavin please fuck me!" Lizzie's head rolled back again and her hips left the bed, as she thrust her fingers into herself in an erotic parody of a cock driving hard at her core. Fiona couldn't take any more. Lizzie's bush was even more beautiful than her fantasies had imagined. She had a trimmed patch of hair and her outer vaginal lips were dark brown, making a dramatic contrast with the vivid pink of her inner lips. Lizzie's clitoris was hard and uncovered from its hood, hard and inviting. Her fingers were thrusting quickly and deeply into her pussy, her slick, juicy, tasty pussy. Fiona managed to snap off one last picture before she fell on her knees and buried her head between Lizzie's thighs. "Fiona! What are you doing?" squealed Lizzie. "Shhh! Imagine it's Gavin, close your eyes and imagine its Gavin's tongue, Gavin's mouth." Lizzie glanced hastily over towards Gavin and he simply grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Lizzie took that as a sign that he wanted her to do this for him. No one else had ever touched her there and for the first contact from another human being to be the mouth of another girl was beyond imagination. Being honest with herself, she admitted it felt more than good, it felt incredible. She decided to play along with Fiona's game. "Yeeessss Gavin, yeeessss. Lick me, suck my little pussy." Remembering what Fiona had said moments before she went all out. "Bite my clit Gavin, bite it, lick it, suck my clit, yeeesssss!" Fiona followed Lizzie's directions. She had one hand inside her own panties, frantically jilling-off as she lived out the fantasy that she had created for herself. Finding Lizzie's clit in her mouth, she bit down on it several times and then lashed it with her tongue. "Fuck! Aaaaaahhhhhhh, Jesus, oh god, oh god, yeeeessssssssssss, do it Gavin, do it! Lick your little slut! Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh." Lizzie's hips jerked violently from the bed and then collapsed as she went limp, her breath coming in raw, heaving gasps. When she found the awareness to glance over at the door, Gavin was no longer there. In all of the fantasies she had had over the weeks since he had saved her, she could never have imagined that her first sexual episode with her knight would actually be with his sister while he watched. Her first ever sexual encounter and it was with another girl. She smiled to herself, admitting that she had thoroughly enjoyed it. ------- Lizzie didn't let on that Gavin had watched her and Fiona and Gavin didn't either, it was their little secret together. Lizzie continued to visit the apartment several times a week and Gavin and Fiona were growing used to her being there, she didn't ever press things with Gavin beyond one less than subtle message. Over the next few weeks Gavin gradually recovered mobility and dragged himself back to the pool and the dojo. The wound healed up well, although Lizzie's stitching probably left him with a worse scar than if he had had hospital treatment. The appearance of the scar was commented on in the changing rooms, but he passed it off by saying that he had caught himself on a nail in the family garage. The most difficult questioning had come from his Sensei who seemed to know there was more to Gavin's scar than he was letting on. Eventually he let it pass, but he had his suspicions as to what had caused the wound. Gavin suspected that the girls had repeated their game at least once over those weeks. One strong clue to back up his suspicions was the discovery of a pair of musky smelling panties under his pillow. Inside the panties was a note - It's your turn whenever you say the word. Gavin's little slut. The note and the smell from the panties had made him hard as steel. There were two other notable things that happened in those weeks, as September gave way to October. The first was Gavin featuring in Crimewatch. Crimewatch was a programme where the police could put out appeals to the public for information to help them solve crimes. Sometimes the programme filmed re-constructions of the crimes committed, hoping to jar the memories of anyone who might have been an unsuspecting witness. The programme showed actors playing out Gavin's hit on the Portcullis and the attack outside Gilchrist's house. After the film had played, a studio presenter interviewed the policeman in charge of the investigation of the vigilante killings (as they referred to them). Gavin and Fiona watched as DI MacIntosh portrayed the vigilante as a violent man, dangerous and just as bad as the other criminals that he had killed. "It's disturbing that the public seem to think that what this killer is doing is acceptable, heroic even. No one has the right to take the law into their own hands. I repeat, this man is a criminal. He is a ruthless, violent murderer and the public should not approach him under any circumstances." A contact phone number was displayed for anyone who had any information that might lead to the apprehension of the vigilante. The policeman's description of him depressed Gavin. He knew this man was doing everything in his power to track him down. He had come across as a fighter, a determined officer who would stick to his task no matter how difficult it was. The second thing that happened was largely down to Fiona. The marketing brochures had arrived and she had personally walked round all of the major financial institutions in Glasgow, dropping off copies for the staff employed there. She had then sat down with the business directory and mailed stocks off to all of the big companies in Edinburgh's financial district too. The results of her labours were a raft of offers for the completed apartments, all of them matching the two hundred and seventy five thousand pounds asking price. Gavin was overjoyed, even though it could mean him having to move out into one of the shells upstairs. Fiona embarrassed him by pointing out he could just set an entry date a few months in advance, to give him time to complete another unit. "Shit! Why didn't I think of that? I'm supposed to be the businessman!" Gavin exclaimed. Gavin arranged to meet the people who had put in offers and he decided to sell to the two that impressed him the most. By suggesting they both increase their offers by five thousand, he had a defensible reason for signing contracts with them rather than any of the other bidders. The first successful buyer was a youngish man in his late twenties. His name was George Adams and he worked for a large insurance company in Edinburgh. The apartment was only a short walk from Glasgow's Queen Street railway station - the main train link to Edinburgh - so ideal for the commuter. George was an outgoing man and enthusiastic about his work and his passion for music. He apparently played guitar (amateurishly) and had the most extensive music collection known to man. What convinced Gavin to let him have one of the apartments was the work ethic that George had. Anyone who could devote himself to his company so loyally was someone Gavin felt he could trust as a neighbour. The second successful buyer was almost the complete opposite of George. She was young, in her mid twenties, and an artist. Unlike a multitude of struggling young artists, Felicity MacCann had already sold a large number of pieces of sculpture and had commissions for several more. She was strikingly beautiful and Gavin almost fell out with Fiona when he told her that Felicity was going to get one of the apartments. "You just want into her pants!" cried Fiona. "Fi, you know better than that, if I was that way inclined I wouldn't be playing so hard to get with Lizzie!" he responded. Felicity was raven-haired with dark smouldering eyes. Her artistic temperament was noticeable, even when she should have been on her best behaviour at the meeting to find out if she could have the apartment. Her fire was what sold Gavin on giving her one of the units. "I have to have it Mr MacSween! The space, the light, it has to be mine! As soon as I walked into the apartment, I could feel that I was destined to create great works there. You have to let me have it!" Within two weeks, Hedonist Properties received cheques to the value of five hundred and sixty thousand pounds. Gavin immediately arranged for the original mortgage to be paid off - he was damned if he was going to pay the bank any more interest than absolutely necessary. Nothing had been said to his parents yet and Gavin had sworn Fiona to secrecy. He invited Christine and Glen out for a meal, hinting that it was because of his approaching eighteenth birthday. Fiona and Lizzie were also invited to attend and Gavin booked a table at a good Glasgow restaurant - Aurora. He ordered a taxi to pick up his parents and Fiona and another for himself. He picked Lizzie up on the way to the restaurant. The restaurant was a hit. The setting was ultra-modern and the service was classy and slick. Gavin and Lizzie ordered Quail breast with pancetta, seared foie gras and honey baked fig; Christine had Gressingham Duck breast; Glen had supreme of wild halibut; and Fiona had crab risotto. The meals came with baby carrots and other vegetables and the taste and presentation was first class. Everyone apart from Gavin rounded things off with caramelised apple tart and fresh cream. Glen even managed to fit in two glasses of white wine. The talk was light and Glen and Christine tried to get to know Lizzie. There was almost a moment of disaster when Christine indicated she recognised Lizzie from somewhere. Her memory wasn't good enough however, to recall the news reports of the attempted rape and things quickly moved on. Lizzie's presence also stopped Glen or Christine from raising anything to do with the vigilante and Gavin was grateful for that. Once the food was out of the way and the coffee poured, Gavin chimed his water glass with a spoon and called for attention. "Thank you, thank you. Now, I know you parents think that this dinner is an early celebration of my eighteenth birthday, I can now reveal the truth. Two days ago, Hedonist Properties sold the first two apartments at St Mungo's Heights for a total of five hundred and sixty thousand pounds. "Yesterday I paid off the original mortgage in full. Once the costs of the renovations are taken into account, I can tell you that today, you Mr Anderson have shares in the company worth one hundred and seventeen thousand in cash and a 45% share in the value of six more units. You my lovely sister have shares worth twenty six thousand pounds in cash and a 10% share in the value of six more units. "Ladies and gentlemen, I put it to you that Hedonist Properties is a success!" said Gavin. Glen and Christine were stunned. The fact that Glen had left absolutely everything up to Gavin meant that he had no idea this was coming. Christine was amazed that her little boy had made so much money in such a short space of time. "Are you serious?" Glen managed to get out. "Deadly serious, father mine. Why don't you trade up your car! You can certainly afford it now," said Gavin. "You really have made all of this happen, haven't you? I'm so proud of you Gavin," said Christine. ------- And so, two weeks before his eighteenth birthday, Gavin was happy. His fears over being discovered by the police had receded, as Lizzie seemed absolutely reliable. He had been taught a harsh lesson in not being complacent but had escaped with his life. And St Mungo's Heights was a great success and was making him money. He had his beautiful sister to love and the prospect of more with Lizzie if he gave in to those urges. Life was sweet, all he had to do was stay on the straight and narrow! ------- Chapter 16: Going South Drew MacIntosh found himself in the main incident room, staring at the board that still had the timeline showing the vigilante incidents. With no new leads, Drew was working other cases now but he continually came back to the vigilante. The Crimewatch programme had been a big disappointment. Drew had held out high hopes that someone out there knew something, had that vital little clue that would unlock the case, but there had been only a trickle of calls and none of them threw up anything new. DI Kenny MacLean wandered over to where Drew was sitting. He knew his partner was thinking again about the vigilante. "Nothing new?" he asked. Drew snapped out of his daydream and focussed on MacLean. "Nothing. You know, we're missing something. Why did he start all this? What was the catalyst, what was his trigger? His first hit was on May 14th when he killed three at the Portcullis or was it? We need to go back and look at old cases. Have we missed something? Did he start before May 14th? If he didn't, is there something about the Portcullis that we've missed?" "What do you mean?" asked Kenny. "Well think about it. What is it that makes someone take the decision to start killing people? What makes them take that big step? Even if we've got somebody here who thinks that it's wrong for the criminals to get away with things, what was it that made him take that big step from thinking something is wrong to actually doing something about it? What was the trigger?" MacLean thought about that for a few moments. "Maybe it all just built up until he decided enough was enough. Maybe there was just one more incident that was the straw that broke the camel's back," suggested Kenny. "I don't think so. There has to be more to it than that. We're missing something, I know we are. If it really was his first, there has to be something more to the Portcullis than we're seeing so far. We need to look at it again," said Drew. ------- Work had started on the apartments on the first floor of St Mungo's Heights. Gavin had agreed that George Adams could move in once the apartment upstairs was finished so that he in turn could move there. Now that Hedonist Properties had some real working capital, Gavin had decided that the next apartment that was completed would not be sold. He intended to keep the next one for himself to avoid the need to move again. The completion date was only a few weeks away and his contractors were doing their usual good job. Despite the fact that the money he was using was all now clean, Gavin continued his practice of paying cash and buying all of the materials himself - there was no need to throw money away just because he had more of it. His eighteenth birthday was rushing towards him and Gavin had decided to share it with Fiona and Lizzie. The day itself was a Saturday and he actually had a swimming meet in the morning, but he promised the girls he would take them out to eat and maybe take in a movie that night. Lizzie had never watched Gavin race and Fiona talked her into going to the meet. "I promise you'll enjoy it," Fiona said, "if nothing else, you get to see Gavin with most of his clothes off!" Lizzie needed no more incentive than that and she agreed to join Fiona in the stands. They waited for Gavin's heat and Fiona began to build the anticipation. "I can still remember the first time I came. I'd only ever thought of Gavin as my brother then, but he had rescued me from the school bullies and was already my hero. When he took off his robe and stood at the side of the pool, I couldn't believe how buff he looked. He really has got a hot bod and I was in lust from that first moment on," she giggled. Lizzie shifted around in her seat as she conjured up her own mental images of a near naked Gavin. Nothing had happened between them as yet but she had the feeling that it was only a matter of time. She had played the photography game with Fiona twice since the night Gavin had watched them, each time continuing the pretence that Fiona's mouth was actually Gavin's. Her obsession had deepened if anything and now she couldn't wait to see him exposed. She already knew how it was likely to affect her and she had made sure that Fiona had brought her camera with her, in the hope that she could snap some exciting pics. "There he is," cried Fiona. She stood up to cheer and wave at her brother and he smiled and waved back. Gavin was wearing a red, white and blue robe that had 'Glasgow Dolphins' embroidered on the back. The girls didn't have to wait long for him to take it off, fold it and stash it in a little plastic basket that was provided for each competitor. When he stood up and turned round Lizzie's breath caught in her throat. "Oh my! Oh my, I see what you mean. God, he does look hot," whispered Lizzie. Fiona laughed at the other girl's reaction, as she raised her camera and pushed the zoom button. "Here, try this," she said, handing Lizzie the camera. "Jeez! He really is fit, isn't he?" "You haven't seen the best bit yet, just a few more minutes," advised Fiona. Gavin entered the pool and got his body used to the temperature of the water. He swam backward and forward for a few metres to loosen his muscles but returned to the starting position as the competitors were called to order. Fiona snatched back the camera. "I need to try and capture this. Watch when he starts, watch the dive and what it does to his stomach muscles," she said to Lizzie, "this is my favourite bit." The starting gun fired and the swimmers launched themselves backward in their starting dives. Fiona snapped away at the point she thought would capture Gavin just as he was fully extended. Beside her she heard Lizzie squeal excitedly. Gavin won his heat but was only second in the final and it was clear he hadn't recovered full fitness after his weeks off of training due to the gunshot wound. The girls enjoyed themselves cheering him on and just acting like girls do. Lizzie's temperature rose a few notches before they left the stands however. "What have you bought Gavin for his birthday," she asked Fiona. "Oh I haven't bought him anything," she replied. "Fiona! That's mean," said Lizzie. "I didn't say I haven't got him something, just that I didn't buy him anything," Fiona responded with a grin. "Oh you! So, what have you got him? Come on, spill it, what have you got him?" Lizzie demanded. "You!" replied Fiona. "Me! What do you mean?" Lizzie asked in surprise. "Well we both know you want to be a little slut for him, but Gavin can be a bit dense at times. He's also got very fixed ideas of what's right and what's wrong. You know he loves me and that stops him from doing anything with you, I'm just going to make it clear to him that it's okay and together we're going to make it happen. With the two of us in on it he doesn't stand a chance!" ------- The night out went well - a meal at the same Italian restaurant that Gavin had taken Lizzie to before and then a movie at the Odeon. Then the girl's put their hastily hatched plan into action. They had both informed Gavin that they were staying overnight in the apartment and he assumed they were going to play together again. Once they had all retired for the night, the girls in one room and Gavin in the other, he tried to keep his mind off of what was probably happening through the wall. He was surprised when his bedroom door opened and Lizzie walked in. She was wearing the short white pleated skirt and little white halter-top that Fiona had worn some months before. She also had a huge red ribbon tied round herself and Gavin realised the message his sister was sending him. Bowing at last to the inevitable, he lifted the duvet in invitation and Lizzie skipped across the room to join him. Her smile was at least a thousand watts he decided. ------- Gavin found his thoughts drifting back to the Crimewatch programme and the policeman he knew was leading the hunt for him. There was something about the man that made Gavin believe that eventually he would be caught, the air of determination, the look of total conviction were things he just couldn't get out of his head. He was also aware that the Glasgow gangs would dearly love to get their hands on him - if anything, that would probably be worse than a lifetime in prison. Gavin decided that he had to start making plans just in case he had to run for it. He had read enough books to have some ideas about how he might come up with a new identity for himself and over the next few weeks he did some research into the first step he would need to take. He spent some time on the Internet looking at newspaper archives for the past few years. He was looking for something in particular; a thread that he could pick up that would help him begin to weave a cover for himself. After several hours of surfing he thought he'd found what he was looking for. The article reported a tragic car accident two years before. ... the red Renault Clio is believed to have spun out of control after skidding on black ice. When emergency services arrived at the scene they found the car upside down at the foot of the embankment. Mr and Mrs Denning of Skye Avenue, Irvine, escaped with minor injuries, but their fifteen-year-old son, Ryan, was pronounced dead at the scene... Most of the information he needed was included in the article. He returned to Google and typed in a search for Ryan Denning AND obituary. The notice was included in a local Ayrshire newspaper and gave Gavin the final pieces of the jigsaw he needed. In memory of our beloved son, Ryan may he rest in peace. He never got to do the many things he dreamed of - he wanted to travel the world but tragically never got the chance - he wanted to be an engineer, but that will never happen. He did bring joy into the lives of all who knew him however, and that is a grand enough achievement for anybody's lifetime. He will be sadly missed. RYAN DENNING 7/8/1991 - 8/2/2006 Gavin now had a name, date of birth and the names of both parents. It was a relatively easy matter to go to the web-site of the General Registrar of Scotland and search for the registration of Ryan's birth. An on-line payment secured him a copy of the dead boy's birth certificate and he entered the address of the apartment so that it would be delivered there. Gavin knew that having a genuine birth certificate was the first step in applying for a British passport. The line in Ryan's obituary about him never having had the chance to travel meant that there was little chance that the boy had already held a passport. The fact that the records and IT systems of the various government agencies weren't linked or cross-referenced would ensure that Ryan's death wouldn't be a matter of record with the Passport Agency, the body that processed passport applications. Two days later the birth certificate arrived and Gavin visited a nearby post office to pick up an application form for a passport. After several hours of studying the form and its accompanying instructions, he wasn't feeling so confident. The application had to be endorsed by someone who was a serving civil servant or a professional such as a doctor or a teacher. The photograph that had to be submitted with the form also had to be endorsed on the back. Gavin couldn't think of how he could get someone to do that for him so his plan stalled. ------- In the weeks running up to Christmas, Gavin was kept busy overseeing the work on the last four apartments. Two more had been finished, one that he was keeping as his own and another that he had sold for a further two hundred and eighty thousand. It would only be another month or so before the last four units were completed and he was already thinking about what he would take on after that. The third buyer was another young man, in his mid twenties and a football player with Glasgow Rangers Football Club. Gavin had been a Rangers fan all his life and he considered Ian MacMillan one of the current team's better players. A stylish and artistic midfielder, MacMillan had come through the youth ranks at the club and was clearly a fan as well as a player. Gavin had no hesitation in letting him have the third unit ready for sale, particularly when Ian promised to get him tickets for some future matches. Gavin had also managed to make up the course work he had missed when he had been recovering from the gunshot and his marks were high. He bought his Professor a bottle of good malt whisky as a thank you for the marketing idea and he was regularly being called upon in class to talk about the practical issues in running a business. There had been no other uncontrollable urges to revert to his vigilante persona, a hard lesson having been learned from his last attempt. Gavin was actually beginning to believe he had it under control and was finally free of the craving for the high his attacks generated. ------- As is often the case when things in life seem to be too good to be true, something happens to upset the apple cart. For Gavin, it was a combination of things all happening at the same time that conspired to spoil his few months of living the good life. Fiona decided she would like to take a trip to London to do some shopping before Christmas. She had some money to spend from her share of the sale of the three apartments and a trip to the UK's capital city with the Christmas lights on sounded like a good idea. She also persuaded Lizzie to join her and they decided to make a long weekend break out of the trip. The preparations actually had Gavin laughing at the girls' antics and he knew he would miss them both while they were away for four days. The bags they packed looked impossibly big for what was only a four-day trip, but the girls insisted they were only taking essentials. He drove them to Glasgow airport in the van, all the while assuring them that he had details of their hotel in London and that he would call them each night to make sure they were okay. Gavin hung around the airport until they had checked in for their short shuttle flight to Heathrow and he waved to them as they passed through security and into the departure lounge. As promised, he phoned that night and listened to the exited chatter from both of them, describing their first day shopping in London's department stores. " ... and the lights were incredible, really pretty, but the crowds, we couldn't move and the people here are so rude..." " ... and I've already got some things for your Christmas, and things for mum and dad, but Lizzie's right even the streets are heaving with people and they just barge into you and we're going to the West-end to see a show tonight..." Gavin laughed at how much the girls could say without appearing to need to pause for breath. Eventually he ended the call, sure that they could carry on all night if he let them. He was going round turning things off before going to bed when he heard an almighty crash from the apartment below. Gavin had got to know George Adams quite well over the past few weeks; sometimes swapping music and even once or twice listening to George play his guitar. The noise suggested something significant had fallen and he raced downstairs to make sure George was okay. "George! George! Are you okay?" he shouted, as he banged on the apartment door. There was no response and Felicity came out of her apartment to see what was going on. "What's wrong Gavin?" she asked. "I heard a huge bang, like something heavy had fallen. George! George, can you hear me?" he called. Gavin remembered that he had duplicate keys for all the apartments that he hadn't handed over yet. He dashed back upstairs to get the one that fitted George's door and let himself in. Felicity followed along behind him and they both got a shock when they found George lying in a heap on the lounge floor. There was a wooden stool lying on its side not far from George's prone figure and Gavin spotted immediately that there was some kind of cord round his neck. Looking up, he saw that the main light fitting in the Lounge ceiling had been pulled from the plasterwork and hung down several feet. Gavin rushed over to George and tried to loosen the cord from his neck. Already the man's face was a deep shade of red as if his body had been deprived of oxygen for some time. The cord had bitten too deeply into the flesh of George's neck and Gavin sprinted frantically into the kitchen space, searching for a knife that would cut through it. Felicity was standing in the apartment doorway, clearly in shock at what she was seeing. Gavin shouted at her as he ran back to George with a knife. "Phone an ambulance! Felicity! Snap out of it, phone an ambulance!" He knelt by George's head and managed to get the blade of the knife under the cord. Gavin sawed quickly and the cord cut and sprang away from George's neck. He didn't pause after that, but instead got the head into the proper position and started administering the kiss of life. Only when he was sure that George was breathing on his own did Gavin put him in the recovery position and walk over to Felicity. "They want to know what's happened, what's wrong with him," she said, handing her mobile phone to Gavin. "No, he seems to be breathing okay now. No, I've no idea how long he might have been without oxygen. I think he's tried to hang himself from one of the light fittings but the thing hasn't been able to take his weight. Yes I've got him in the recovery position, just get here as quickly as you can." Gavin thought it would be better to get Felicity back to her own apartment and he took her arm and urged her out of the door. Once he had her safely back next door, he returned to wait for the ambulance to arrive. With nothing to do he looked round the apartment and spotted a piece of paper sitting on the dining room table. Walking over, he picked it up and found that it was George's intended last message. Mom, dad, sis, I'm sorry. My name will be splashed all over the papers and TV anytime now. I'll be cast as another Nick Leeson, I'll become known as the man who lost millions gambling on the stock markets. I know the auditors will find the trail that leads back to me soon and I can't bear to face the music. Everything has been going so well, but in the past week I've lost heavily and gambled huge sums trying to recover my company's money. I should have known better, as all that happened was that I lost even more. There's been a rumour that one of the traders in London has been going short and I think I'm one of the ones he's managed to rip off, but it won't look that way. Please believe me when I say I didn't take any of the company's money, I didn't steal. You taught me better than that. I love you. George. Gavin folded the note and slid it into the back pocket of his jeans. He decided that no one needed to see this and he could return it to George once he was better. When the ambulance arrived Gavin let the paramedics in and hovered around while they strapped him to a stretcher and then wheeled him out. "Which hospital are you taking him to?" he asked. "The Royal," a paramedic replied. Gavin locked the apartment and returned upstairs. There was little point in going to the hospital now, as they would in all likelihood be treating George. He decided to leave it until morning. ------- The next morning Gavin phoned Glasgow's Royal Infirmary and checked to see how George was doing. The hospital refused to give him any details, as he wasn't a relative but they did tell him which ward George was in and when visiting hours were. His classes were already finished for the Christmas break so he was free to do pretty much what he wanted and he decided to visit George to see how he was doing. Finding parking for the van outside the hospital proved to be a difficult job but eventually he found a space and had to pay an eight-pound fee for the privilege. Gavin thought there was something immoral about charging people that amount of cash for visiting sick relatives and he told the attendant so. "If we don't charge then everybody just uses the car park whether they're visiting the hospital or not. It's the only way we can stop that," the attendant responded. "There must be another way of policing who uses the car park, it's just immoral. I mean, what if somebody has a terminally ill relative here? How can they be expected to visit every day and pay that amount of money? It's nothing less than taxing the sick!" The attendant shrugged as if to say it wasn't his fault or his problem and Gavin stomped off toward the hospital's entrance. The reception desk gave him some directions for the ward he wanted and Gavin followed signs and coloured lines on the floor through the maze of buildings, some of them dating back to the 18th Century. Gavin passed a plaque dedicated to Joseph Lister - he was vaguely aware that Lister had pioneered the use of antiseptics in this very hospital almost a hundred and fifty years before. It took fifteen minutes before he found the right ward - the sign proclaiming that this was the psychiatric ward. Gavin assumed, rightly, that people who tried to commit suicide had to be screened by psychiatrists, so the ward didn't surprise him. A nurse was on station at the entrance to the ward and she asked who he was there to see. Checking her notes, she confirmed that it would be okay for him to spend some time with George, as he was considered a low risk patient. The nurse led him to an enclosed room where George was lying in a bed, his arms strapped down. "You can only have fifteen minutes," she informed him before leaving the room. "Hi, George." "I wish you'd left my alone, left me to die," George rasped. Gavin could see the raw skin on his neck. "Listen, George, things are never as bad as they seem. I know that nothing's that bad that you have to think about killing yourself. Think about the pain for those you'd be leaving behind. Don't you think it's kind of selfish?" If Lizzie had been around she would have been able to tell Gavin that his blunt and direct approach was not recommended in cases like this. Even as a first year psychology student she had learned that much. George was taken aback by the comment however, and he frowned at Gavin's words, clearly thinking them over. "I left a note to explain why I did it," George tried to explain. "I know, I found it and got rid of it. It seems to me that you've done nothing wrong apart from make some mistakes at work. A note isn't going to make up for the loss of a son, the loss of a brother. I think you need to get things in perspective, George. Even if you lost your job, your family would rather have you around than dead." "I can't face the ridicule, the accusations, the shame," George said. "Look, it seems the one to blame here is the trader you mentioned in your note. Why should you pay such a heavy price for something somebody else has done? I might not understand what your note was going on about, but you were saying someone else was to blame - something about 'going short' or something." "Going short means selling stock you don't have. It's normally done when you think a stock is going to fall rapidly. The idea is you buy the stock back once it's fallen, at a much cheaper price and make money. I heard a rumour about some stocks, we often get that. I sold stocks I didn't have, intending to cover my position once the stock fell but the stocks just kept going up and up and I lost a fortune. "I learned yesterday that the rumours might have come from Glen Tilbury. He's a well-known character in the city, in London. He's been accused of this kind of thing in the past and has been investigated by the FSA but nothing has stuck so far." "Look, forget about Tilbury, forget about your company. You need to think about yourself and your family," Gavin said. The nurse bustled in at that point and told Gavin he would have to leave. "Just look after yourself, George. There's too much to live for, believe me," he said as he left the room. ------- When Gavin returned to the apartment he couldn't help but look up Glen Tilbury on the Internet. He was amazed at the number of hits that came back on his Google search and he was soon reading about a number of scams and insider dealing scandals that Tilbury had been alleged to be part of. As George had told him, there had been numerous investigations, but Tilbury always seemed to come out clean. Some of the links also revealed that, in addition to the financial shady dealings, Tilbury had also been accused twice of date rape. Again he had been investigated, but the police had not been able to charge him. "This guy is pressing all of my buttons," Gavin thought to himself Looking through more of the links Gavin found some photos of Tilbury, several of them showing him coming out of his plush London home into a scrum of media photographers. He mentally noted the address that was given as a footnote to the pic. ------- Fiona and Lizzie were hitting the shops again. Today it was Oxford Street and their excitement hadn't waned in the least. Their arms were already laden with bags from a variety of stores but they couldn't resist the designer shoe store - shoes!! Disaster struck when Fiona tried on a pair of shoes with five-inch heels. "Gavin will die when he sees me in these!" she squealed. She paraded up and down the store, the assistant showing signs of impatience at how long she was taking. And then it happened. She turned too quickly in the heels and felt herself topple over, one heel snagged in the carpet. Her left leg was at an unnatural angle and took her full weight as she went down. "Aaahhhhh!" she squealed. Lizzie bolted up from her seat and rushed to help her friend. "Oh god it hurts! It hurts, do something Lizzie. Aaahhhh!" The shop assistant phoned for an ambulance and Lizzie tried to comfort Fiona. When they arrived, the paramedics put an inflatable splint on Fiona's leg and soon had her in the back of the ambulance. Lizzie persuaded the shop assistant to keep all of their purchases in the store for her so that she could ride in the ambulance with her friend. ------- Gavin's phone went off at about 4pm. He picked it up and saw that it was Lizzie calling. "Couldn't even wait for me to call tonight to go on about their latest purchases." he thought. "Hi, Lizzie, have you guys managed to empty the stores yet?" he asked. "Umm, Gavin. We've had a bit of an accident," came Lizzie's response. Gavin's gut tightened as he thought the worst. "What's happened?" he asked. Fiona had been adamant that she didn't want to tell Gavin, it would be too embarrassing to explain what had happened. When the nurse at the hospital told her that the x-ray showed she had a hairline fracture of the fibula, she knew that was no longer an option and she accepted that Lizzie would tell him. "There's no need to be alarmed, it's just, Fiona's broken her leg," Lizzie said. "Jesus!" "It's kind of embarrassing really, she was trying on a pair of heels and fell over," Lizzie added. Gavin couldn't help himself, he started laughing. "It's not funny, Gavin, she's really hurt herself!" "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just such a funny picture," he replied. He noted down details of which hospital Fiona was in and confirmed that he would be in London as soon as he could. "I can only stay here until Monday and then I need to be back in Glasgow for work," Lizzie said. "I'll be there before then, I promise. Tell Fiona I miss her and will see her soon," said Gavin. Once he was off the phone, Gavin raced round flinging some things together. He decided he would drive to London on the off chance that the van might help him get his sister home for Christmas. If he didn't, she would be absolutely miserable. He paused as he caught sight of his rucksack and a thrill shot through him. The name Glen Tilbury leapt into his mind. It seemed fate was trying to tell him something - first George brings up Tilbury's name, then the Internet provides details of his scams, rapes and address, and then Fiona breaks her leg forcing him to go to London. What were the chances of all those factors combining? Gavin grinned and hoisted the rucksack onto his back. Once the van was loaded he made a stop to fill up with petrol and then another at the Royal Infirmary. The nurse on duty wouldn't let him see George so he scribbled a short note for him and asked that it be passed on. With his 'duty' to George done, Gavin headed for the M8 Motorway and headed South. He quickly joined the M74 and knew that he had over an hour before he crossed the border into England. He checked the time and figured his parents would be home by now so thumbed the mobile in its hands-free cradle and called them as he drove. "Mom, is that you? Yeh, listen, no need to panic but Fiona's had a fall in London and has a hairline fracture in her leg. I'm heading South now to be with her and try to make sure I can get her back home for Christmas," he informed her. "Oh god, do I need to go to her?" Christine asked. "No, Lizzie said she's just fine, a little embarrassed, but fine. She was trying on shoes and fell over!" "No! Now that is embarrassing, she'll never live it down," said Christine. Gavin said his goodbyes and cut the connection. He estimated the round trip to London would take him eight or nine hours. He had planned his route and knew he would join the M6 then cut across country to the M5, and eventually onto the M40 all the way to London. It was going to be a grind and he turned the radio up a little for entertainment. ------- By the time Gavin reached London it was the early hours of the morning. He had made one stop on the road South - to grab something to eat at a service station and to buy a London A-Z. He used the street map now to navigate his way to the hotel the girls had booked into. Traffic was relatively light and that made things easier. He drove along Euston Road and easily found the Euston Square Hotel, only a short distance from the road he was on, on the adjacent North Gower Street. Parking the car, he phoned Lizzie to let her know he had arrived and to make sure he could get into the room she was sharing with Fiona. It was a tearful reunion, despite the fact that Fiona wasn't badly hurt and it had only been a few days since Lizzie had left Glasgow. Gavin reassured her that everything was going to be fine and once she was calm again, he said he needed to get some sleep. They snuggled up together and Gavin was soon dead to the world. Both of them visited Fiona the next morning. By sheer luck Fiona had been taken to the University College Hospital, which was also on Euston Road, only a short walk from the hotel. Before setting off, Gavin extended the booking on their room by several days, making sure he had somewhere to sleep while he was figuring out what was happening with his sister. Having already been there, Lizzie led the way to the ward Fiona was on and Gavin couldn't resist a wee joke at his sister's expense when he saw her. "Timber!" he exclaimed as he neared her bed. "Oh very funny, bro, very funny!" she pouted. "You've got to admit it's a pretty unique way of breaking a leg, sis. I'm sure you'll look back on this and laugh, after all, it's not that bad, certainly not something that will stop you playing tennis." They spent an hour with her and then Gavin said he would need to get Lizzie to the airport for her flight back to Glasgow. "I'll come back and visit tonight, sis," he promised. The fact that Gavin had immediately driven all the way from Glasgow had cheered Fiona up no end. She knew he had brought the van as an added factor in trying to make sure she was home for Christmas. As always he was being very thoughtful and considerate. She refrained from asking whether he and Lizzie had done things together the night before - but she did get a little horny at the thought they might have. ------- Gavin dropped Lizzie off at Heathrow and battled through the heavy traffic back into London. He had several hours to kill before he would be able to visit Fiona again and he used them to drive to Tilbury's house and check it out. His first impression was that the man had too much money. Real estate in London was ridiculously priced and anyone who had a detached house, with grounds, was sitting on a multi-million pound piece of property. There were a number of shops not too far away from the villa and he bought himself a sub with salad and Mexican chicken to stave off the hunger. Walking back to the house he noted there was a bus stop only about fifteen yards away from the gate. That might be handy. ------- Gavin visited Fiona again that evening and was pleased to hear that she might be released in a few days. The consultant asked him how he might get her back to Glasgow and seemed satisfied that he had a vehicle that would accommodate the foot to knee plaster she was in. "What are you going to do with yourself?" Fiona asked him. Gavin had hoped she wouldn't ask something like this, as he knew he was a poor liar when it came to family. "Oh, I'm just gonna kick back and watch some TV in the hotel until it's time to come and see you again tomorrow," he responded. Fiona noticed that he had looked away before replying and she wondered what he was up to. The idea that he might be about to enter vigilante mode didn't occur to her given they were in London, but she was intrigued nonetheless. ------- After visiting hours were over, Gavin made his way back to Tilbury's house in the van and parked up. It was after 9pm but he had read city brokers worked long hours and tended to party hard afterwards. He was hoping to catch sight of Glen Tilbury and learn anything he could to help with what he had planned. To pass the time and do his duty, he phoned his parents to give them an update on Fiona. After another half an hour of sitting doing nothing, Gavin got out of the van and locked it. He walked along in front of the house and made a circuit round behind it. The grounds were unbelievably extensive for being in London, where land was at a premium, but that suited what he was about. He had taken note of the CCTV mounted on a pole at the end of the driveway and the fact that the gates looked as if they were controlled electronically. Returning to the van, he settled in to wait for his quarry and just before midnight he saw headlights approaching. It turned out to be a black Toyota Land Cruiser and Gavin watched it closely as it drew up to the gates. The 4x4 paused as the gates opened and then sped through. He hopped out of the van and ran to the wall, peering over to see what Tilbury's security was like. The man simply got out of the vehicle, walked to the front door, opened it and went inside. "Fuck! Doesn't anybody have any idea about personal security down here? The guy could be a target for a kidnapping or robbery, but he doesn't have the first idea about protecting himself. Ah well, makes my job easier!" he thought to himself. Gavin had seen all he thought he needed to and he made his way back to the hotel. ------- The next day Gavin visited Fiona in the morning and was pleased when the consultant confirmed she could be released the following day. After visiting hours, he bought a mattress for the back of the van. He wanted to make sure his sister was comfortable on the drive home and once that was achieved he found himself something to eat. He had spent a few minutes in the hotel the night before, checking the phone directory for Toyota dealers. The last few hours before evening visiting were taken up checking them out. At the first dealership that sold Land Cruisers, he asked for a test drive and spent fifteen minutes driving one round the nearby streets. At evening visiting he reassured Fiona that everything would be fine for heading back to Glasgow the next day. Gavin explained how he had fitted-out the van to make things comfortable for her on the journey. He patiently went over the route, where they would stop and how long the drive would take. Once visiting was over, he dashed for the van and made his way back to Tilbury's house. He parked the van further away from the house this time and made his way to the bus stop with his rucksack in his hand. It was 9:30pm and already pitch black. Gavin knew he was exposed somewhat as he waited, but couldn't think of an alternative and was willing to take what he thought was a small risk. Luck continued to be on his side, when the Toyota pulled up to the gates just before 10:30pm. Having used his time well test driving the vehicle, Gavin knew exactly where the blind spots were for the driver. He used that knowledge now to scuttle up behind the 4x4 and park himself on the very narrow bumper of the Cruiser. He held on to the rear screen wiper as the Toyota moved through the gates and up the drive to the house. When Tilbury stopped the Cruiser, Gavin let him open the front door of the house before he rushed him. The ski mask was down and a Browning was in his right hand, as he moved silently up behind the man and stuck the barrel of the gun once into his spine. He pulled the gun back quickly as a precaution against Tilbury trying to roll him. Tilbury turned to face Gavin and when he saw the fear in the other man's eyes, Gavin believed everything was going to go smoothly. He gestured with the Browning and Tilbury led the way inside the house. Using his left hand, Gavin forced Tilbury's hands behind his back and awkwardly put a tie wrap round his wrists. Once the wrists were secured, he quickly put another tie wrap round the man's ankles and pushed him to the floor. With Tilbury secured, and no concerns that anyone would hear him if he screamed, Gavin set out to explore the house. He found Tilbury's bedroom and a well-appointed study close by. Returning to his captive, Gavin cut the tie around his ankles and hauled him to his feet. He carefully recovered the shreds of the tie. "Up, you little English bastard!" he growled. He marched Tilbury through the house and pushed him down into the seat in front of the PC in the study. He lit up the PC and waited for it to boot. "What's the fucking password?" he demanded. Tilbury told him. He typed it in and hit the enter key. Once the system was running, Gavin opened Internet explorer and navigated to Google. He put in a search for 'vigilante AND Glasgow'. When the results came back, he clicked on the first link and opened up a news story covering his own activities over the past few months. "Just so you know what you're dealing with, I'm the vigilante mentioned in this story. I've already snuffed out ten wankers worse than you and I'm feeling itchy to make it eleven, so hopefully you're going to give me an excuse!" he rasped. Tilbury's eyes took in the detail of the story. He was used to the dog eat dog world of the city, but that didn't involve any violence, certainly not people sticking guns in your ear. He was shaking like a leaf. "Where is the safe?" Gavin demanded. Tilbury couldn't stop himself from glancing at the framed painting mounted on the wall of the study. Gavin walked over and swung the frame away from the wall to reveal the wall safe. "Open it!" he ordered. For the first time Tilbury balked. Gavin returned to the PC and dragged him from the chair, pushing his face up against the safe door. "Open the fucking thing or I swear I'll fucking kill you!" he screamed. Tilbury shook. "I can't use my hands," he moaned. Gavin recognised his stupidity and released Tilbury's hands. The broker hurried to spin the dial first one way and then the other. A final twist to the right caused the safe to give a click. Gavin pushed Tilbury back to the seat and sat him down again. He grabbed Tilbury's hands and forced the Browning into them. Using all of his considerable strength, Gavin pulled Tilbury's hands up in front of him and pointed the gun at his face. "You don't deserve to live and what better way to go than at your own hands?" Gavin asked. Tilbury's eyes widened as he realised what Gavin was going to do, he wasn't strong enough to pull his arms away and he could see the mouth of the Browning's barrel lining up with his head. The black circle meant death he knew, but there was nothing he could do about it. Gavin experienced a rush of pure adrenaline and power once more as he paused with the gun level with Tilbury's face. He forced the Browning forward and past Tilbury's lips and then smiled at the broker as he forced his finger onto the trigger. "Goodbye, Glen," said Gavin. As soon as the gun fired, Gavin let go of Tilbury's hands and let the Browning drop naturally. He had ensured it was the Browning he had lifted from the drug house rather than his own gun, always intending that he would be leaving it behind. Gavin had angled the broker's head away from the PC screen and the spray of blood and gore hit the wall to the left of it. He quickly searched the contents of the safe now, keen to be on his way. There was a large quantity of cash and twenty or so account books. Looking through the books he realised that Tilbury had many millions stashed away in different accounts. He took half of the passbooks and left the rest. Alongside the money and bank passbooks were a number of CDs. Gavin pulled them out. They were like any other common CDROMs, one had Cindy scrawled on it and the other Amanda. Opening the CR drive on Tilbury's computer, he slotted 'Cindy' in and closed the drive. The windows pane popped up, asking him what programme he wanted to play the disc. Gavin selected RealPlayer and watched as the footage of Tilbury raping a quite obviously comatose girl played out. It seemed as if the accusations of date rape where indeed true and the sick broker had filmed himself violating the women involved. He ejected the disc and returned both of them to the safe. The last thing in the safe was a pile of papers. He rifled through them and smiled when he saw that they catalogued the most recent scam on the money markets, the one that had burned George. Gavin hoped their discovery would help George in some way, that would please him enormously. He found a carrier bag and thrust the cash and the passbooks into it. Taking one last look around, he moved over to the PC keyboard and opened up Word. Thinking quickly, he typed a short message. I can't do this anymore, I'm sorry for what I've done. Satisfied, he made his way back through the house and down the drive. He hauled himself over the wall at the side of the gate and again wondered at the poor security. The feeling was just as good as it had been when he had hit the Portcullis, the alertness, the rush, the sense of power and invincibility. He had just done a good thing, Tilbury had been sucking the life out of others and he had put an end to that. He smiled as he made his way back to the van; the vigilante had made a difference! ------- Gavin waited patiently the next day for his sister to be discharged. The NHS seemed to be an absolute mess and things took several hours longer than he expected. He eventually pushed Fiona in a wheelchair out and round to the van, helping her crawl into the back and allowing her to get comfortable on the mattress. He had explained that he would stop several times to allow her to stretch and also to relieve herself but he also told her now he needed plenty of warning if she needed an unscheduled stop - services were quite a few miles apart on the motorways. The journey was quite a test for Fiona - it's no fun lying on your back in a van for eight hours without being able to see where you're going. Gavin tried to keep her spirits up and made more stops than he had originally planned to try and relieve the boredom. The University College Hospital had furnished Fiona with a pair of lightweight crutches and she managed to get some practice with them, hobbling around a number of service station car parks. Eventually they made it home and Gavin helped her up the steps and into St Mungo's Heights. Fiona paused outside George's door, a frown on her face. Gavin had described what had happened only a few days before and she was saddened that anybody could feel so bad as to attempt to take their own life. "I hope he's okay," she said now. "Maybe things will get better for George. Sometimes things can just crowd in on you and you end up doing something stupid. I'm hoping the time in the hospital will help him get a better perspective on what's important in life," Gavin replied. Rather than wait for his sister to inch her way up the stairs to the first floor, Gavin carefully lifted her and carried her up. He opened the apartment and waited for her to swing herself forward on her crutches then helped her get settled on the sofa. He pulled over a low coffee table and put some cushions on it so she could raise her leg and try and get comfortable. A quick call to his parents ensured that they made plans to visit Fiona to make sure for themselves that she was okay. It was agreed that she should stay at the apartment for now, as Gavin would be there during the day to look after her. ------- Details of Glen Tilbury's suicide emerged gradually over the next few days. The amount of money involved in his scams and the evidence found in his house ensured that he was big news. The TV news stations ran interviews with people who had been burned by his insider dealing and also friends of the girls he had raped. Gavin watched it all and was quietly pleased with himself all over again. One element of Tilbury's crimes in particular was highlighted, the most recent scam that had lost George so much money. The fact that this scam hadn't yet been identified by the FSA made it a juicy part of the overall story. Financial analysts were wheeled out to try and explain how the scam worked in terms most people would understand. Gavin hoped George was watching and that this news made him feel better. ------- Drew was going over notes on another case when his phone rang. "MacIntosh," he said. His caller turned out to be a London detective following up on a loose end in the Tilbury suicide. The bullet had been recovered from Tilbury's body and the Browning pistol had also been examined. Details in the Police National Computer had identified the gun as having been involved in a number of shootings in Glasgow. DI Jones was interested in how Tilbury had managed to get his hands on the gun and whether there might be some connection to the Glasgow gangs and the scams he had run. Drew listened to the details of the case and felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. "Look, are you absolutely positive this was a suicide?" he asked. "No doubt about it, his prints were all over the weapon, powder burns confirm he was shot from point blank range and there was nothing taken from the scene as far as we can tell. That included bankbooks for accounts with several million pounds in them. No, this was definitely a suicide. Why?" "It's just that this has all the hallmarks of somebody I've been trying to nail for months now. I've seen the details of what Tilbury did on TV and I didn't think about it at the time, but his profile would seriously interest my man," Drew responded. Armed with Drew's suspicions, the London force went back over all of their evidence. Nothing suggested anything other than suicide but DI Jones was nothing if not thorough and he spoke to the pathologist who had carried out the autopsy. Several hours later the pathologist called him back and advised that there were some slight abrasions on Tilbury's wrists that might indicate he had been tied up immediately before his death. He hadn't counted them as significant before, but now, with DI Jones suggesting the case might not be a straightforward suicide, he had looked at things in a little more detail. A much more thorough review was also made of the recorded footage from the CCTV at Tilbury's house. There was one brief glimpse of a figure leaping over the wall from inside the property and it had been missed first time round. "You bastard!" whispered DI Jones. Jones called Drew back and confirmed that there was a possibility that Tilbury's death hadn't been suicide after all, but it was still only a possibility at this stage. He asked for details of the cases Drew was investigating to get a feel for what he might be dealing with. Within hours, the possible link between the vigilante and the death of the London broker was leaked from Stewart Street station and the Glasgow gangs and the media found out about it. By dinnertime the story was running on the national news programmes and Fiona was watching. Gavin had left the room as soon as he heard the news headlines and realised his careful planning had somehow failed this time. He knew Fiona was going to give him a hard time over this and wanted to delay that for as long as possible. ------- Glen had just kissed Christine as she left to go and visit Fiona when the news came on. He watched and listened as the reporter described the sensational news that the Glasgow vigilante was suspected of involvement in the death of London City broker, Glen Tilbury. Glen was angry. "I knew the story about how Fiona broke her leg was too far-fetched! This has gone too far, now he's involving Fiona in his sick excuse for justice. No more, no more, somebody has got to put a stop to this!" Pulling out his wallet, he extracted a small slip of paper. For some reason he had written down the phone number for the police that had been given in the Crimewatch programme. He looked at it now and then lifted the phone. "Hello? I'd like to speak to someone with regard to information about the vigilante," he said. ------- Chapter 17: Losing someone dear "Hello? I'd like to speak to someone with regard to information about the vigilante," Glen said. "I can help you with that case, sir. What do you have to tell us," said the voice on the other end of the phone line. Glen glanced at the little piece of paper in his hand again. He had noted down the officer's name from the TV. "No, I want to speak to DI MacIntosh," he said. "I can assure you, sir that I can help you just as well as DI MacIntosh could, now why have you called?" "I'm only willing to speak to DI MacIntosh, I'm sorry," Glen repeated. "Okay, sir. I'll try and find him for you. Hang on." Glen was already having second thoughts. The internal conflict was tearing at him and he knew Christine would never forgive him. The silence on the other end of the phone as he waited for the detective made things even worse. He suddenly decided he couldn't go through with it and cut the connection, placing the handset back in its cradle. "I'll speak to Christine about it later. This has simply got to stop and if Gavin won't hand himself in, then I will have to go to the police. I'll give him one chance," he thought. ------- Unfortunately for Glen, he wasn't as well up on police methods as Gavin was. He was therefore unaware that not only had his call been recorded, he had hung on the line long enough for his call to be traced. Even as he sat with his head in his hands worrying about his son, his address was being passed on to DI MacIntosh. The note advised that it was potentially a hoax caller, but that he had asked for Drew by name. Even more unfortunately for Glen, Drew wasn't in the station to see the note and act on it, but one of the officers on the Cullen clan's payroll was and the address was passed on to Rab 'the tram' Cullen twenty minutes after Glen had made the call. "You and you, go round to this address and lift everybody there. Take Gilchrist with you and whoever else is around," ordered Cullen. His two chosen goons moved quickly to obey. Within minutes a silver BMW was racing through Glasgow's streets. "Where are we going?" Fraser asked from the backseat. "Something to do with the vigilante, the boss just told us to go and lift some people, that's all I know." Everyone knew Fraser didn't like being involved in the more violent activities of the clan, but Cullen had ordered him to join the 'heavies'. The other three in the car laughed as they saw Fraser's face growing paler as they neared their destination. ------- Glen heard the doorbell and he wondered who could be calling. He walked to the door and started to open it. As soon as the latch was disengaged from the lock one of the gang members charged the door full-force, viciously knocking Glen onto the floor of the hall. The next thing he felt was a boot sinking into his midriff and he vomited all over himself. "You! Upstairs, check all the rooms!" shouted one of the goons to another. Fraser stood to the side of the door, watching in horror. It took only minutes for the clan members to confirm that Glen was the only one in the house. He was hauled to his feet and dragged to the BMW. A fist thudded into his stomach before he was shoved brutally into the back seat and a thug got in on either side of him. Glen's head was reeling. The shock of being attacked in his own home, the sheer violence, the pain, all combined to heighten his fear. He had no idea who these people were or what was going on. The car journey took twenty minutes and in all that time no one spoke apart from one call that was made on a mobile phone. "There was only one, we've got him and we're heading for the usual place," he heard one of the thugs say. Glen was dimly aware of the streets they were passing and he quailed when the car turned into to an abandoned warehouse. He found himself being dragged roughly from the car and into what must have been an office for whichever business had once thrived here. The pain had receded enough to allow him to take in his surroundings and there was no comfort to be found. The room contained a single chair and a packing case. Glen was pushed down onto the chair and then one of the clan members lashed out, clubbing his face with a fist. Another stopped both him and the chair from toppling over. "Leave it! Wait until the boss gets here. We don't know yet what he wants this guy for," said the other thug. Fraser's face remained a deathly shade of grey. ------- Christine knew something was wrong when she saw the front door of the house lying open. She entered the house cautiously, fearful as to what or who she might find. Some of Glen's vomit was visible on the hall carpet and she began to shake with fear, tiptoeing through the house until she was sure there was no one hiding anywhere. She closed and locked the door then hurried to the phone. It didn't take Gavin long to answer her call. "Gavin, it's mum. When I got home I found the front door lying open and there's no sign of your father. I'm scared, son and I'm worried something has happened to Glen," she managed to get out before bursting into tears. "I'll ask Lizzie to come over to be with Fiona and come right away," Gavin replied. ------- Glen was completely unnerved by the waiting. He still had no idea what was happening to him and why. His attackers seemed so casual about the situation and that added to his fear; it was clear these were men used to violence. One of them looked less comfortable. Despite the fact that he had an ugly looking scar on his cheek, this man looked completely out of place beside the others. Glen heard another vehicle enter the warehouse and guessed the 'boss' had arrived. Maybe now he could explain that they had made an awful mistake. Cullen entered the room and looked at the man his men had lifted. He wasn't much to look at and Rab didn't think he would hold out long once they started working on him. "You made a call to the police about an hour ago claiming to have information about the vigilante. You're going to give me that information, you're going to give it to me now or I'm going to get angry. Believe me, you won't like me when I'm angry!" Rab spat at Glen. With those words everything became crystal clear for Glen and he got even more terrified. These were gang members and they wanted Gavin. Somehow details of his call to the police had been passed to them. He guessed now that his call had been traced - how else would they have known where to find him? His mind tried to process all of the information that was suddenly bombarding it. They hadn't tried to hide their identities so they were undoubtedly going to kill him. His son, who he had thought of as a mere boy until now, had taken men like these on and killed them. The fact that men like these were at liberty at all and could do things like take people from their homes meant the justice system wasn't working and Glen's opinion of what Gavin was doing changed in an instant. He wished his son was here to save him now. He wouldn't lead them to Gavin. All of these thoughts flashed through his brain in an instant and somehow Glen's terror receded. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about," he managed to say. "Oh dear, he wants to do it the hard way. Alex, give him the message!" ordered Cullen. Rab had seen something harden in his captive's eyes and decided that that needed to be stamped on immediately. One of the goons stepped forward and began to beat Glen about the face. Glen felt the heavy blows. He felt something give in his cheek, possibly part of the bone, blood gushed from his broken nose and the pain forced tears into his eyes. Somehow he was able to detach himself from what was happening to his body and blessedly the pain lessened. "Try and answer my question again now," Cullen said to him. "Fuck you," Glen managed to spit out. "Alex, go and get the kit," ordered Cullen. ------- Gavin was sitting beside his mother on the sofa, his arms round her and cradling her head to his chest as she continued to cry. When the doorbell sounded, he could feel her whole body flinch. "Shhh, don't worry mom, I'm here to protect you and nothing's going to happen." He stood and made his way to the window, looking out first before answering the door. He could see two men waiting outside for a response and recognised one of them as the detective from the TV programme. Gavin's heart began racing. His time was up; they'd found him. He forced a smile to reassure his mother that there was no danger and then walked slowly to the door and opened it. "I'm sorry to bother you, Detective Inspectors MacIntosh and MacLean. Could we come in for a minute please?" Gavin looked at the warrant cards the two men held out and simply nodded, pulling the door open wider to allow them access. He led them through into the sitting room where Christine was still sitting on the sofa. It was the one he knew as MacIntosh who spoke again now. "Someone made a call from this house earlier this evening claiming to have information about the identity of the vigilante," he said. Relief flooded Gavin's system only to be quickly followed by dread. They weren't here to arrest him - at least not yet - but it sounded as if his father had called them to reveal his secret. If the police didn't have his father, then where was he? Christine's fear turned almost instantaneously to anger. Glen had called the police to report his own son, how could he! No doubt he had left the house because he couldn't face her. Christine's whole interpretation of what she had found when she returned to the house changed and she knew her duty was to protect her son. She didn't know what information, if any, Glen had already passed on but he couldn't have named Gavin or the police would already be arresting him. "Oh dear, has he been doing that again?" she asked. "What do you mean Mrs Anderson? Who are you talking about?" Drew asked. "My husband, he's obsessed with crime and is always claiming he knows who's behind every murder or robbery. I'm afraid he's phoned the police claiming to have information on more than one occasion. He's not in at the moment officer and I can only apologise for him wasting your time," she replied. Drew shook his head in disappointment, as another potential break looked like it had gone up in a puff of smoke. It appeared as if he had a crank caller on his hands. "Does he know he could get into serious trouble for wasting police time?" he snapped. Gavin could see that the two policemen no longer wanted to hang around and he was just as happy to see them to the door. When he returned to the sitting room his mother hugged him tightly. "I can't believe your father would do this. What was he thinking of? Just wait 'til I get my hands on him!" "But where is he, mom?" Gavin asked. "Probably hiding from me!" his mother replied. ------- Fraser couldn't bear to look any longer. Glen's face was a mess; both eyes almost closed to slits due to the puffy bruising surrounding them, blood leaking from his nose and a mouth that showed several missing and broken teeth. The 'kit' had comprised a pair of pliers, a hammer and a cordless power drill. So far the pliers had been used to rip out four fingernails from one of Glen's hands and the hammer used to smash one of his ankles into bits. The man's screams pierced Fraser's head as another act of torture was meted out in the derelict warehouse. "I'll give you your due, you're much tougher than you look," he heard Cullen say. Fraser was also amazed at how much pain Glen was taking without breaking. "You two, go and round up Gay Gordon. We'll see how tough he is once he's had a hard cock up his arse. All the so-called hard men respond well to that. Alex, take a break," said Cullen. Fraser winced. He knew Cullen had used this tactic a number of times in the past. Gay Gordon was a hardened criminal who had spent more than half of his life behind bars. Although normally straight, he had learned to take his sexual pleasures with other inmates over the years. Cullen knew there was something hugely psychological and frightening for a man to be anally raped. It somehow stripped them, broke them, took away all of their self-respect and will to resist. Even the toughest crumbled after such a violation and Fraser suspected Glen would be no different. Inside Glen was once again terrified. The beating had been agony, worse than anything he could ever have imagined, but Cullen's words had registered in his head and he now faced the prospect of being raped by another man. Christine's words came back to him - how women lived in fear of what men were capable of physically, what rape meant to a woman emotionally and at last he really fully understood her fears. "Gavin, I'm sorry son. I can't take it, not that. Please forgive me?" he thought to himself. Fraser realised that he was momentarily alone with Glen. Alex and Cullen had walked out of the little room to stretch their legs and get away from the awful stench of shit and piss that was coming off of Glen. Not surprisingly, his bowels had voided and his bladder had emptied with the fear and pain he had suffered. Looking over at the packing case, Fraser could see the pliers, the hammer and the cordless drill. Sitting beside them was another weapon, a revolver. He walked over and picked it up. "You know they're going to kill you?" he asked Glen quietly. Glen managed to nod his head feebly to show he knew. "You're going to break, they all do. Once you've had a hard cock ripping your arse open, you'll tell them anything. I can't let you do that; I can't let you give them Gavin's name. At least the pain will stop and Gavin will have a chance." Fraser could see something in the way Glen's head rose. The man was surprised at the use of Gavin's name. He held the pistol up to Glen's face and pulled the trigger. Grabbing hold of Glen's body, he dropped to the floor, pulling Glen over on top of himself. Cullen and Alex raced back into the room and found Fraser on the ground with their captive lying partially on top of him. They dragged the man off and Fraser sat up. "He went for the gun! He went for the fucking gun!" Fraser spat. "You'd better hope he's not dead," growled Cullen. When Glen's body was rolled over it was clear that he was indeed dead and wouldn't be telling them anything. "You stupid bastard!" Cullen yelled. He aimed a kick at Gilchrist. "What the fuck was I supposed to do? If he got the gun he might have taken us all out! It was him or me for fuck's sake!" Fraser yelled back. Cullen seemed to see the truth in Fraser's words and he calmed down a little. "Alex, get rid of that," he said, gesturing with his head at Glen's body. ------- Gavin stayed with Christine and when there was still no sign of his father returning by midnight, he decided to sleep in his old room. Christine made them both some hot chocolate. "He'll be back, don't worry dear. He's probably gone to a pub somewhere to get some Dutch courage before he faces me." "I'll stay here tonight and see him in the morning," Gavin said. He phoned Lizzie to let her know he wouldn't be coming back to the apartment and then finished his chocolate before turning in for the night. When he roused himself early the next morning, he found Christine still sitting at the kitchen table and no sign of his father. "Didn't he come home?" Gavin asked. "No," Christine replied. As the hours had passed, Christine became less sure that her husband was merely trying to avoid having to face her. She was coming to terms with the idea that something might have happened to him. Gavin could see his mother was really worried now. The anger at his father of the night before was gone from her face and only concern showed there this morning. They both jumped when the doorbell rang. Once more Gavin looked out of the front window before going to the door. This time he saw the marked police patrol car and two uniformed officers on the doorstep. Another surge of fear and panic shot through him, as he suspected that they had come to arrest him this time. His mother had followed into the sitting room and she now looked at him questioningly. "It's the police again," Gavin answered her look. Christine went to the door, trying to marshal her features to disguise her fears. She invited the two officers in and led them into the sitting room. "Are you Mrs Anderson?" the female officer asked. "Yes," Christine confirmed. "And you are?" the male officer looked at Gavin. "I'm her son," he replied simply. A look passed between the officers, and the man nodded to the woman as if to say 'over to you'. "Mrs Anderson, there's never an easy way to break this kind of news. I'm terribly sorry to tell you that a man's body was pulled from the River Clyde in the early hours of this morning. From the personal effects found on the body, we have reason to believe it's your husband, Glen Anderson." Christine gasped and her legs grew weak under her. Gavin rushed to hold her steady and they both looked at the female officer with something akin to disbelief. "That just can't be, I mean I was with him only a few hours ago," Christine stammered. "When was the last time you saw your husband, Mrs Anderson and where is he supposed to be now?" The male officer asked. "I saw him about 6:30pm but he wasn't here when I got home just after 9pm. He hasn't come home," she said, slipping into a daze. "Was there an argument or any other reason for him to leave?" The woman asked. "No," Christine replied. "Are you aware of any enemies your husband might have had or any reason why someone might wish to harm him?" "No," Christine said again. "I'm afraid someone will need to identify the body, Mrs Anderson. Do you feel up to that?" the female officer asked. Her tone conveyed her understanding of how difficult this was for both Christine and Gavin. ------- Glasgow's City Mortuary is situated in the Saltmarket, no more than a mile from the spot where the girls had rescued Gavin when he had been shot. Gavin drove his mother there and entered the mortuary with her to lend his support. When they explained why they were there and that they had an appointment, an attendant ushered them into a viewing room. They were joined a few minutes later by DI MacIntosh. "I know this is difficult," he said, "I'm afraid I have to forewarn you that the body has been badly beaten." Gavin felt his mother's grip on his arm tighten painfully. "Are you ready?" MacIntosh asked. Christine nodded her head and Drew signalled to the attendant. The curtains facing them were drawn back to show there was a window behind. On the other side of the window, Glen's body had been carefully laid out for them to view. "Oh my god!" Christine gasped. Gavin once again had to steady her. "Mrs Anderson, is this your husband?" MacIntosh asked gently. Christine couldn't identify Glen's face. The bruising and swelling were so extensive that it looked nothing like her husband. She could identify two other things however, and she was in no doubt. Glen had a little birthmark, a port-wine mark low down on his neck. He also had a small piece missing from his left ear, a wound he had received when playing rugby as a boy. "It's Glen, oh god, it's Glen," she sobbed. MacIntosh nodded to the attendant and he mercifully closed the curtains once more. "I have to ask you a few questions. It seems there might have been more to his phone call than you believe. I'm afraid there's also some paperwork that needs to be completed," Drew said. ------- Gavin drove his mother home. She had stopped crying and had a distant look about her. Christine had stuck to her story to explain Glen's call to the police, but it was clear that the detective was very sceptical. He wondered if they had heard the last of that matter. Gavin parked the van and helped her into the house. "How are you feeling, mom?" he asked. Christine tried to think about the question. How did she feel? Her husband of almost twenty years was dead and by the looks of it, it had been an awful ending. "To be honest, son, I'm feeling kind of numb. I can't believe your father was going to betray you to the police and I would never have been able to forgive him for that. You saw the state of his body though, I can't bear to think about what he must have suffered." "It's possible that one of the gangs did this, mom. He looked as if he had been tortured and that could mean that he's told them about me." Christine hadn't thought of that possibility, her mind was complete mush. Now she could see that Gavin could well be right and she worried anew. "I think it might be better if you packed a bag and came to stay with me for a little while. I really don't want to leave you here on your own," Gavin said. That suited Christine just fine, she didn't want to stay in the house on her own either. She wandered upstairs to pack some things to take to Gavin's apartment and twenty minutes later she returned with a small case. Gavin took it and carried it out it the van. ------- Fraser drove to his usual spot. The events of the night before had been harrowing to say the least and he knew he had had about all he could stand of gang life. He parked in his usual spot and watched. Forty minutes later he saw what he always came to this spot to see. Today he was going to break his own golden rule. ------- Gavin heard a noise behind him as he put his mother's case in the rear of the van. "Don't turn round," he heard a voice say. For some reason Gavin managed to resist the urge to do just that, something told him to obey the command. "I'm sorry about your step-father, he was a very brave man right up to the end. You should be very proud of him, son, he didn't tell them a thing, despite what they did to him." "How do you know?" Gavin had to ask. "I was there," the voice said quietly. "Who did it?" Gavin asked. "That doesn't matter. Now listen. No more attacks, they're waiting for you if you haven't already guessed that. You need to leave it alone." "I need to know who did it," Gavin repeated. When there was no reply he spun round only to see a man walking across the road. The figure climbed into a car and seconds later it drove off. There had been something familiar about him though, something that Gavin remembered from months before. ------- Chapter 18: Secrets revealed Gavin got his mother settled in the apartment with Lizzie and Fiona. Christine had asked Gavin to take on the unenviable task of telling his sister that Glen was dead. He took Fiona through into one of the bedrooms for some privacy to get the horrible duty out of the way. He waited until she was propped up against the headboard of the bed and sat beside her. "What's all this about, bro? You've really got me worried. Why couldn't you tell me out there with mum and Lizzie? Have you done something else?" she asked. "Sis, I've got some really bad news," Gavin started. "No, nooooo!" Fiona wailed. Gavin wondered if she had guessed. "Sis, dad's dead. He didn't come back to the house last night and the police came this morning to tell us that his body had been found floating in the River Clyde." "Nooooooo!" Fiona screamed. Gavin hugged her tightly, trying to ease her pain just by being close. "Apparently he phoned the police to tell them that he knew something about the vigilante. I'm guessing that they must have traced the call and somehow the information was passed on to one of the gangs. "Sis, it looks as if he was tortured. I think they were trying to get him to tell them who the vigilante is. Mom and I had to go and identify the body this morning, it was a horrible sight," he said. "Daddy! Daddyyyyyyy!" Fiona sobbed. Christine and Lizzie entered the bedroom. Christine rushed to comfort her daughter and Lizzie looked confused, wondering what the drama was all about. "Will someone tell me what's going on?" she asked. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I had to tell Fiona first, I hope you can understand that. We found out this morning that our father was murdered last night. Mom and I had to go and identify his body this morning," said Gavin. Lizzie's hand shot to her mouth as the shock of Gavin's words sunk in. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed. "Gavin thinks one of the Glasgow gangs killed him," Christine said. "Oh my god!" Lizzie repeated. "It's possible that Glen was tortured to tell them about Gavin," Christine added, forgetting that, as far as she knew, Lizzie knew nothing about Gavin's alternative persona. "Oh my god!" Lizzie said for the third time. "He didn't tell them anything," Gavin said now. His statement was made with such conviction that Christine examined his face closely. It had only been an hour or so ago that Gavin himself had raised the possibility that Glen would have told the gang about him. What had changed in that time to convince him that Glen hadn't told everything? "How can you be so sure? You weren't earlier," she asked now. "I just know he didn't talk," Gavin replied. "How did dad die?" Fiona asked, her tears subsiding a little. Christine realised that she didn't know the answer to that question. She had been in such a fog she hadn't thought to ask. "A single gunshot to the head," Gavin said. "But we saw his face, there was a lot of damage, but surely no bullet wounds?" Christine said. Gavin had spoken to DI MacIntosh quietly and extracted this information without his mother hearing. "The bullet entered through his mouth, all of the damage would be to the back of his head," Gavin tried to explain. "It looked as if he suffered terribly," Christine broke down again. "I think he changed his mind about telling the police about me," said Gavin, "I also think he did everything he could to protect me." At last Gavin was feeling guilty about what he had done as the vigilante. It had been as a result of his actions that his father had been brutally tortured and killed. A man who had never broken the law in his life, a man who wouldn't know a gang member if he fell over one on the street was dead because Gavin had brought the gangs into his life. For the first time since he had made the decision to attack the Portcullis Gavin felt he had no more use for the vigilante. He would never know the irony that, as Glen came to change his mind about his son's action moments before his death, he was now coming to the conclusion that Glen had been right all along. Lizzie tried to lighten the dark mood. "George is back in his apartment, I saw him earlier and he looked quite cheerful," she announced. Her efforts didn't work as well as she had hoped. ------- Drew wasn't happy with the Anderson killing. Something just didn't add up. Was it really possible that a hoax caller had been mistaken for someone who really had information about the vigilante? Had this man paid the ultimate price for wasting police time? It just didn't feel right. There was nothing in their records on Glen Anderson. No criminal connections, nothing to even hint at anything shady in his past. He was looking at the son now. Strangely he could come up with nothing on his computer for a Gavin Anderson. Sticking doggedly to his task, he checked census data for the Anderson's address and spotted immediately that the son had a different surname - he was Gavin MacSween, not Gavin Anderson. Another computer search, this time using the name Gavin MacSween, identified that there was a file going back some nine years. Something that old wasn't held on the computer and Drew knew he would have to put in a request for the paper file. He did so now, not holding out much hope. The son would have been only eight or nine back then so it was unlikely the file was going to give him anything interesting. ------- "I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head," Gavin announced. His mother, sister and Lizzie all searched his face for any warning signs. With the stress of everything that was going on, Christine still forgot that Lizzie didn't know anything about his activities as the vigilante. "Don't do anything stupid, Gavin. I don't think I could take losing you and Glen. Please, no more killings. Oh dear!" Her hand went to her mouth as she at last realised belatedly that Lizzie was there and that she had said too much. The other elements of the evening's conversation now came back to her too. Gavin smiled for perhaps the first time that day. "It's okay, mom. Lizzie knows about me. She was the girl I saved from the rapist and she recognised me at the University," he said. Christine recalled now that she had thought there was something familiar about Lizzie when they had first met. As soon as Gavin explained who she was, she remembered the news footage that had shown Lizzie after the attempted rape. Gavin left Fiona and Lizzie to bring his mother up to date and left the apartment. He hopped in the van and drove off into the Glasgow night. ------- Fraser was dropped off at his house by two other members of the Cullen clan. He waited in the car while one of them quickly checked to make sure there would be no repeat of what had happened outside his house previously. Once the all clear was given, he walked quickly up the drive and let himself in. He poured himself a whisky and turned on the TV before taking a seat in his favourite armchair. There was no sound to warn him but suddenly he felt the barrel of a gun pressed to his temple. Surprisingly he wasn't scared and instead he let out a sigh. "Gavin, put the gun down. I told you to let this go," he said. Gavin walked round in front of Gilchrist, his ski mask in place. How do you know who I am?" he asked. "Take the fucking mask off, it's so melodramatic!" Gavin pulled the mask off of his head. He had recognised Gilchrist as he walked away that morning and couldn't let matters rest. Getting into Gilchrist's house had been embarrassingly easy, once again the criminals had no idea of security. Climbing up a drainpipe, he had entered an open upstairs window and then waited for his quarry to arrive. "How do you know who I am?" he asked again, "how did you know where to find me?" Fraser sighed again. "When Cullen ordered his goons to pick somebody up last night I had no idea who it was, just that it was related to the vigilante. "All of the gangs have been cooperating over the past weeks and months to find the vigilante - he's bad for business, very bad for business. "I didn't even know where we were going, but as we got closer my heart started to sink and suddenly I made some connections that I'd missed. The gang members thought I was quiet and scared because there was going to be violence, but I was really scared because I just knew we were heading to your house. "There were clues I should have cottoned on to. When you killed Mulloy and Haining that night, there was something familiar about the way you moved. I didn't see it; maybe the bang on the head you gave me slowed my thinking. But as we pulled up outside your house, it made sense. You lost your mother and I always suspected Steve Miller was wrapped up in that. That's why you hit the Portcullis wasn't it? To get Miller?" "How do you know all that? How do you know about my mother? What do you mean there was something familiar about the way I moved?" Gavin demanded. "I've sat outside that house looking at you at least once a month for the past nine years. I know how you walk, I've watched how your swimming and your martial arts have developed you. I just didn't put it all together." Fraser could see that Gavin was confused. His face was a picture that was currently very easy to read. "Gavin, I'm your real father," he said quietly. He wasn't prepared for the way Gavin responded. His movement was lightning quick and Fraser didn't even see the blow coming. The barrel of the Browning crashed into the side of his head, stunning him. "You're fucking lying! How could you possibly be my real father, he's long dead! You're fucking lying!" Gavin screamed. Fraser pulled his hand away from the side of his head; there was some blood on it. He tried to shake off the pain and regain his focus. "Nora was my girl, we went out together for more than nine years and you were probably the best thing to come out of that. Miller and I never got on and I always suspected that he was involved in her death. Rab Cullen convinced me that Miller had been with him the day it happened and I could never get any proof. But you know something don't you?" "You're fucking lying!" Gavin screamed again. His head was whirling. How did this man know all these details? Why had he been watching him all this time? "I followed your progress in the local papers. I've cut out and kept all the articles about you winning medals for swimming over the years. I went to the school to check your exam results even. I'm so proud of you and I promised that I wouldn't spoil your life by ever contacting you. I could see that the Anderson's were doing right by you and if I'm honest, you've probably had a better upbringing than if you'd still had Nora around." "Stop it! Fucking stop it! I don't know how you know these things, but I'm not swallowing your fucking story!" Gavin screamed again. "I can prove it," Fraser said. Before he could say anything else, Gavin fired a question at him, a surprising question in the circumstances he thought. "Who's your favourite author?" Gavin demanded hotly. Fraser glanced at his bookcase and then back at the angry young man with the gun in front of him. "That would be Louis L'Amour I guess. I'm an absolute sucker for a good western." Fraser was amazed to see Gavin's face crumple. He had no idea that Gavin had treasured and read and re-read the books that he knew had belonged to his father. By naming Louis L'Amour, Fraser had all but convinced Gavin that his incredible claim was true. "Look, let me prove it," Fraser said. He got up slowly and crossed to a bureau in the corner. He rifled through it and returned to his armchair with a pile of stuff. Sifting through it, Fraser set out the newspaper clippings of Gavin's swimming successes to show that he had indeed followed Gavin's progress. He found what he was looking for and pulled out a number of photographs. "Here, look. Here's me with your mother," Fraser said. He carefully laid the photographs down one by one, trying not to unduly alarm Gavin. He was still conscious of the gun in the boy's hand. Gavin picked up the photos and immediately recognised his mother and the man sitting opposite him together. They looked like a young couple in love and Gavin had no further doubts that Fraser's claims were true. The Browning dropped to his side, as he silently acknowledged to himself that this was his real father. He even wondered if something in his subconscious had recognised that. On the night he could have killed this man, he had instead clubbed him unconscious, had his sub conscious recognised his father? "I think this one was Rab Cullen's twenty-first birthday bash. That was a night to remember," Fraser said as he laid down another pic. Gavin was in something of a daze as he picked up the next pic. Fraser saw him visibly stiffen. The picture was of a table in a Glasgow club; four couples were smiling at the camera. Fraser and Nora were there, again looking as if they only had eyes for each other. "I'm sure you recognise Steve Miller. That's wee Amy MacLaren he's with. She dumped him a few weeks later and that was probably the best move she ever made in her life," said Fraser. "Who's this?" Gavin asked. He pointed to another of the young men sitting at the table. "That's Rab Cullen himself, I can't remember the girl's name, but Rab's like that. He doesn't stay with anyone for long. "What about him?" Gavin asked. "Now that would be Sean O'Reilly. Sean used to run with us, but he eventually outgrew Rab and branched out on his own. He's got his own gang now, not as big as Cullen's, but big enough," Fraser answered. "It was Stevie Miller who killed mum. He strangled her as he fucked her arse; he seemed to get off on that. He wasn't alone though, these two raped her as well," Gavin said. Now it was Fraser's turn to look confused. "How do you know that?" he asked. "I saw it all. I watched while they raped her and then Miller strangled her. Those were the other two." Gavin indicated Cullen and O'Reilly in the picture. Now it was Fraser's turn to be disbelieving. "You couldn't have! If you saw it all, why didn't it come out at the time!" he demanded. Gavin looked sheepish. "I was scared. I was eight-years-old and I was scared. I hid in my bedroom cupboard until they had gone and when the police interviewed me I lied and said I hadn't seen a thing." Fraser could see the hurt, the shame, the fear in his son's face. He tried to imagine what it would have been like for an eight-year-old to watch his mother being raped and killed. He couldn't. "Cullen! The bastard! I've worked for him all these years and he convinced me that Miller wasn't to blame. No wonder he lied, the bastard was there! He was fucking there!" Gavin was struggling to keep track of what he was hearing, it was an incredible story, the realisation that Fraser was his real father was overwhelming. "You've made a start with Miller, Nora's memory demands that we finish it and kill Cullen and O'Reilly," Fraser said. Gavin shook his head. "No, Glen's death was the last of it for me. He told me what I was doing was wrong. Civilised people shouldn't take the law into their own hands. I ignored him and that's what caused his death," Gavin said. "Fucking bullshit! These bastards raped and killed your mother, my girl. If you're not going to do anything about it then I sure as fuck will!" Fraser replied. "What happened last night?" Gavin asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the details, but it was one of those things that just couldn't be avoided. "Believe me, you don't want to know," Fraser replied. "Fuck you! I need to know!" Gavin shouted. "Oh, you need to know do you? You want to know the gory details? They smashed his face in. They pulled his fingernails out with pliers. They smashed his ankle to smithereens with a fucking hammer! They were just about to have a fucking goon fuck him up the arse as a final torture, a hard cock up his fucking arse! He knew he couldn't stand that so I shot him! Yes, it was me! I put him out of his fucking misery! I snuffed him so that he didn't have to give them your name!" Gavin was stunned once more. "You killed him?" he asked. "I put him out of his misery! He was already half way there and he knew Cullen wasn't going to let him live. I simply ended it to stop the suffering and help him protect you," Fraser said, his voice losing its heat. Gavin tried to picture the scenario. Would he have been able to pull the trigger and end Glen's suffering? "I'm sorry. I'm sure he would thank you for what you did," he said eventually. Fraser was surprised at the maturity Gavin was showing. It was clear that his son understood and was forgiving him for pulling the trigger, for firing the bullet that had killed his stepfather. "Why did you ask about Louis L'Amour?" he asked. "I found some of your books around the house. I kept them; I've still got them even now. I read and re-read the books, trying to keep some kind of connection to you." Fraser felt tears well up behind his eyes. He couldn't help the love for this boy welling up inside himself; his son had tried to hold onto some connection to him. Even as he had watched Gavin grow from a distance, his son had tried to hold onto memories of him! "Go home and look after your family," he said, "leave this final chapter to me." Gavin drew himself up. He looked at his natural father and came to a decision. "No. I started this, I need to finish it!" he said. Fraser looked unconvinced. "Dad?" Gavin asked. "What?" Fraser responded. "What's your name?" ------- Chapter 19: laid to rest Over the next few weeks the necessary but solemn duties of arranging and attending Glen's funeral and of probating his estate had to be carried out. Gavin took on most of the responsibility, as Christine still wasn't functioning properly. Glen had left instructions that he wanted to be cremated rather than buried and family and friends gathered at Craigton Crematorium. The turnout was surprising, with many of Glen's work mates showing up to pay their respects and even George and Felicity from St Mungo's Heights were there. Two faces stood out for Gavin amongst the assembled mourners however; two that he was less pleased to see. Towards the back of the small chapel sat DIs MacIntosh and MacLean and Gavin wasn't happy about it. He knew that the police sometimes did attend funerals of murder victims on the basis that it was possible the killer would also be unable to keep away. The Minister performed the service flawlessly and the hymns were the tried and tested standards for funerals everywhere - the Lord is my shepherd and Abide with me. Christine and Fiona cried throughout and Lizzie joined them, despite only knowing Glen briefly. Gavin had asked to be allowed to say a few words and he made his way to the small lectern the Minister had been using. "Glen Anderson may not have been my natural father, but I came to think of him as my 'dad' in every way. "He was a fine man who lived for his family and who gave his love freely and without reservation. He worked hard and instilled in me basic values - honesty, loyalty, the need to do my best at all times, to respect others, to be charitable and many more. "For a boy newly orphaned at eight-years-old, he was a rock of solidity and gave me great comfort in a frightening and lonely world. "Glen is already sorely missed by his family, by mom and by Fiona and by me. We have lost a very good man, but have the memories of him that will hopefully sustain us in the months and years ahead. "I know he would want me to thank all of you for coming here today to show your respects. In many ways he was a quiet man who kept himself to himself, but he would have been moved that so many are here today. "Dad, for the times we shared - good and bad, for the love between us, for all that you gave me that helped shape me into the young man I am today, I'll miss you. "For the quiet advice, for the steadying hand, aye and especially for the bollockings when I deserved them, I'll miss you. "For the constant support, encouragement and obvious pride in even my smallest achievement, I'll miss you. "Dad, wherever you are, I love you and I'll try to live up to the example you've always set me." There wasn't a dry eye in the chapel as Gavin finished speaking and walked back to Christine and the girls, his own tears streaming down his face. Christine and Fiona hugged him and sobbed quietly into his chest. At the end of the service there was a quiet hum as Glen's coffin began to move on a conveyor belt and two deep velvet curtains swept closed to mask its progress towards the incinerator. That moment, so final and cruel, caused Christine and Fiona to wail out loud and Gavin hugged them tighter. Piped music played as he led them to the doors of the chapel and Christine composed herself to join Gavin in thanking each and every mourner as they filed passed them. "My deepest condolences," Drew MacIntosh said to Gavin, "please forgive me for intruding on your grief but I've been unable to contact you and we need to talk." He handed Gavin a card and passed on to shake Christine's hand and whisper his condolences to her too. ------- "What did the policeman give you?" Christine asked. They were cleaning up Gavin's apartment after family and close friends had been round after the cremation. Everyone had left now and only Gavin, Christine, Fiona and Lizzie remained. "His card. He said he's been unable to contact me and that he needs to have a word," Gavin answered. None of them had thought that the only contact address or number that the police had was for Christine's house. "Why does he need to talk to you?" she asked now. "I've no idea mom. I guess I'll just have to phone him to find out." The reading of Glen's last will and testament the next day was a less harrowing experience than the funeral had been. Unsurprisingly, Glen had left his entire estate to Christine or, in the event that Christine's death preceded his own, it was to be divided equally between Fiona and Gavin. Over the next week or so Gavin helped Christine manage the many small, practical things that needed done. The joint bank account had to be changed into Christine's name. Glen and Christine's mortgage had been secured using endowment policies and these needed to be claimed following Glen's death - Gavin was pleased that at least his mother would own the house outright after that. Glen had a life assurance policy and that had to be claimed, he had also paid into a works pension fund and Christine would receive a pension from that. There were so many little things that were taken for granted each and every day and which, with Glen's death, had to be changed over into Christine's name Gavin wasn't sure how long his mother would stay at the flat, but he paid for a re-direct of her mail for three months so that it would come to the apartment. By mutual consent, their Christmas was a very low-key event. None of them felt like celebrating and memories of how happy previous Christmases had been only served to deepen the sense of loss. ------- Drew read through the file once more. It had been more than ten days since Glen Anderson's funeral and still Gavin MacSween hadn't contacted him. He knew the boy would have a lot on his mind and had decided to give him Christmas and New Year before actively searching for him. The file in front of him dealt with the rape and murder of one Nora MacSween. He had already been through it three times and wondered if it had any relevance to the death of Glen Anderson. He couldn't see any possible connection at all. What was of slightly more interest was that Nora had died so violently. Could that have given a motive for her son to grow up to become the vigilante? Drew laughed at himself. He knew he was clutching at straws. The boy had only been eight-years-old at the time and there was nothing on the file that suggested any links to the people the vigilante had killed. No, there was nothing in this, but he still wanted to speak to Gavin one last time - just because he was thorough. ------- Gavin knocked on the door of the apartment and almost laughed out loud when George opened the door. George had somehow managed to get his hands on a vigilante T-shirt with its 'Let Glasgow Flourish' legend on the front and 'Support the Vigilante' on the back. "I'm glad to see you looking so well," he said with a smile. "Come in, Gavin, come in," George replied. He followed the older man into the apartment and asked for a coke when George offered a drink. "So, how are things?" Gavin asked. "Good," George replied, "my company has been very understanding. Three cheers for the vigilante, that's all I can say. When he topped Tilbury, all of the details of the scam came out and cleared my name." "I'm glad. It's like I said when you were in the hospital, you never know when things are going to get better, something always turns up." "Look, about that night. I've never really thanked you properly for, well you know, for saving me," George said awkwardly. "I'm just glad I was there," Gavin replied. "If there's anything I can do for you, you just have to name it. I had plenty of time lying in the hospital to think about what you said. You were right you know, nothing's that important that you should put your family through something like that." "Actually, there is something you can do for me," Gavin said. "What?" George replied. "You wouldn't mind endorsing my passport application would you?" Gavin asked. "Don't be daft, of course I'll do it. That's nothing, I meant if there's something big you need then let me know," George answered. "No, the passport thing is enough, honest." Gavin rushed upstairs to get the passport application. He had left it entirely blank so that George wouldn't see the name that the passport was being applied for under. When he returned downstairs, he had George enter details of his occupation, his work's address, how long he had known the applicant and his own passport number. "You have to sign the back of this photograph too. It needs to be endorsed with the words I certify that this is a true likeness of Gavin MacSween and then your signature - but if you just sign it, I'll write-in the words later." Gavin showed George the photo. "I see you got the standard terrorist look for the photo. Why do passport photos always turn out like that?" George asked. Gavin dropped the photo, but quickly scooped it up and placed it face down on the table for George to scrawl his signature at the bottom. "Thanks, George. I really appreciate this and as I said, it's good to see you looking so much better." ------- Gavin was determined to break the mood that had been hovering over them all and he planned to try and do that at Hogmanay. The start of the New Year would be a time for them all to start again and he hoped that what he was going to suggest would jump-start the recovery process effectively. He knew there would be the traditional street party in the City Centre's George Square and he had managed to get tickets for Christine and the girls. There would be live bands and fireworks and he thought that was exactly what they all needed. He knew his plans were starting to work when the girls got excited discussing what they were going to wear. Fiona had to be extra careful with her leg still in plaster, but that didn't stop her planning on getting dressed up in something sexy. Christine joined the fun and the scene brought a smile to Gavin's face. "Look, I'm sorry to disappoint you girls but remember this is Glasgow at the end of December. It's going to be bloody freezing out there and I think you should be thinking about putting on more layers, not baring as much flesh as you think you can get away with in public!" "Oh you! Where's the fun in that!" Fiona challenged. Gavin shook his head. He knew this was one argument that he would never win. Besides, Fiona and Lizzie did look especially hot in their little outfits - who was he to complain? Christine smiled as she watched him hug both Fiona and Lizzie. She knew all three were sharing one bed and surprised herself by not letting that upset her. Given the major things that they had already shared with each other, polygamy didn't seem such a big issue to her anymore. They certainly seemed to be happy together and that's what mattered. By 11pm they were all ready to go out to the party. George Square was only a five-minute walk from St Mungo's Heights and they laughed happily as they made their way along Sauchiehall Street. Gavin and Christine were well bundled up but Lizzie and Fiona wore short skirts to show off their legs and deep-cut cashmere sweaters to show off their cleavage. Fiona's crutches and cast spoiled her look a little, but she didn't look as if she cared. Once they reached the square, they stayed on the fringes of the crowds so that Fiona wouldn't be in any danger. There were street vendors everywhere and thousands of revellers already gathered to party into 2009. All four of them enjoyed the atmosphere and the bands playing. They joined in with all the others when it came to the countdown to midnight and then kissed and hugged as they wished each other a very happy New Year and an impressive firework display exploded overhead. It was almost 1:30am when they trudged back into the apartment and Gavin opened a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne. The party atmosphere was still very much evident and the sparkling drink helped keep it going. "And did you see that girl with the red top? She was totally out of her face!" giggled Lizzie. "What about those two guys climbing up the streetlight? Totally pissed out of their heads they were!" added Fiona. Gavin waited until there was a natural lull in the conversation and then cleared his throat. He decided phase one of his New Year's plan had worked out just fine. Now was the time to go with phase two. "Umm, listen guys, I've been thinking," he started. "Oooohhhhh! Dangerous bro, you don't want to do too much of that!" Fiona giggled, clearly a little tipsy. "No, seriously! I've been thinking that it's time we tried to make a new start. It's time to put dad's death behind us and get on with our lives. There's too much baggage around here though. I'd sooner we were as far away from the Glasgow gangs and the vigilante's past deeds as possible. What do you all think about selling up and relocating to America?" He could tell from the silence that first reactions to his idea were not entirely positive. "What? Say something! I think it's a good idea," said Gavin. "America? Relocate to America? Don't you think that's a bit dramatic dear?" Christine asked, "what would we do there?" "Mom, are you telling me you'll ever go back to that house? You'll never feel comfortable there and I won't be happy to think about you being there on your own. You're a teacher, the US needs good teachers, they'd snap you up in a second," he answered. "What about me?" asked Fiona. "You and I could go to College together, sis. It would be cool," he answered. Gavin saw that Lizzie was close to tears and she remained quiet. "Lizzie, I mean you too. I want you to come with us. You could transfer to an American College as well," he said. "I still think it's a little dramatic, dear," Christine repeated. The atmosphere in the apartment had suddenly gone very flat and Gavin thought he had made a big mistake. He had totally misjudged the moment and his idea had fallen flat on its face. What he didn't realise was that his suggestion was so dramatic that it had stunned them all. It had come completely out of the blue and Christine and the girls were really still trying to get their heads round the idea. As a result everyone was subdued as they eventually headed for bed. ------- Over the last few days of the holiday, Gavin's idea began to take root in the minds of Christine and Fiona. There was certainly a lot to be said for getting as far away as possible from the danger that the Glasgow gangs might still represent. Christine had to agree with Gavin's comments about returning to her house. She really couldn't see herself living there again and whatever she did, she decided she would sell the house. She was also hopeful that moving away might help Gavin put the vigilante thing behind him and move on. The more she thought about America, the more it began to appeal. He was right, as a teacher she would probably be able to get a job easily enough. Fiona was also starting to warm to the idea. There was still a lot of awkwardness in being with Gavin. All of her friends knew him as her brother and that made it difficult to go out with him much. In America they could start afresh and no one would think twice about seeing them together. The idea of going to a new country began to really excite her. Lizzie was the one least sure about it all. She felt that Gavin's invitation might have just been him being polite, almost an afterthought. She still felt somewhat unsure of her place in the complicated relationship she had with him and Fiona and suspected that the move to America might be partly about Gavin getting away from her. As a result she grew less sure of herself and gradually more withdrawn. Gavin noticed the signs and sat her down for a chat. When her fears flooded out, when she explained she wasn't sure he really wanted her to go to America with them, he hugged her tightly. "Shhh. Of course I want you to come. What would I do without you? I mean, I plan on getting all this free consultancy from you once you qualify. Who else is going to help me sort my head out without reporting me to the police?" Lizzie laughed at this and immediately started to feel better. He did want her; her hero did want her with him after all. ------- The new passport arrived in the post and Gavin opened it up. He knew this was a completely genuine passport that would stand scrutiny anywhere in the world. It was the key to an entirely new identity and he hoped it would be put to use in the very near future. It was Christine who called a 'family' meeting at the end of the next week. She had decided that she was willing to give Gavin's idea a chance if the others would also go for it. "Okay, I wanted us all to get together to talk about Gavin's idea again. I admit that he took me by surprise when he suggested it, but the more I've thought about it, the more I can see that it might just work," she said. When Fiona squealed with excitement, they all got the general idea that she was also now in favour. The other three all looked at Lizzie now. "I wasn't really sure, I mean it's a huge step and it would mean me leaving all of my family behind. My biggest worry is that the rest of you don't really want me along," she said hesitantly. "Nonsense!" cried Fiona and Christine together. Fiona bounded over to the sofa and hugged Lizzie tightly. "Of course we want you to come! We'll be your family," she said excitedly. Gavin smiled widely - it looked as if phase two had been successful after all. Now there was only the little matter of phase three to worry about. ------- Gavin walked out of the University building and straight into DI MacIntosh. Drew had decided it was time to clean up loose ends and had tracked him down through the University records. "I thought I told you to call me?" he asked accusingly. Gavin was taken by surprise by the detective's presence. "Umm, things have been kind of busy at home. I was going to call though," he replied weakly. "Perhaps you could spare me an hour or so now?" MacIntosh asked. Gavin was unsure. If he refused it might look suspicious, but he had also read about always making sure there was someone with you if you were interviewed by the police. "Am I not supposed to have someone with me? A solicitor or something?" he asked. "This isn't a formal interview and you're over eighteen aren't you?" Drew responded. Still nervous, Gavin agreed. He followed the detective to a Mondeo that was parked at the kerb. His partner was already at the wheel and the car pulled away as soon as Gavin was in the back seat. It took only a few minutes to reach Stewart Street police station and Gavin's nerves increased as he was led in through a door from the car park. He had never been in trouble with the police and certainly never had the misfortune to be inside a police station. Drew led the way to one of the station's interview rooms and asked Gavin to take a seat. "Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?" he asked. "You wouldn't have a coke?" Gavin asked. "Kenny, go and grab a coke from the canteen, would you?" Drew asked his partner. Once MacLean had left the room, Drew seated himself on the opposite side of the table from Gavin. He looked the boy over and detected that he was nervous. "You seem nervous?" he said. "I've never been in a police station before," Gavin explained. Drew waited for his partner to return before getting down to business. As Gavin popped the tab on a can of coke he asked the first of the questions that were still troubling him. "You know, I'm still having a hard time believing that Mr Anderson was killed for making a hoax call. Is there anything that you haven't told me yet that might shed light on why the gangs would be interested in him?" Gavin was on relatively firm ground here. He knew that his stepfather had never been involved with the police and that he was squeaky clean. "I've absolutely no idea, officer. Dad certainly wasn't involved in anything dodgy if that's what you mean," Gavin answered. "It's just that, I've checked all the records and there's nothing to suggest he's ever called to report anything else. Your stepmother said he'd done this a number of times before, but you see, there's no record of that. Why now? Why phone about the vigilante case?" Drew asked now. Even the mention of the name made Gavin more nervous. "I've no idea why there are no records, but my mom was telling the truth - he did do this before," Gavin lied. He knew he wasn't a convincing liar and he was searching for anything to help him control his nerves. He slipped into the breathing exercises from his martial arts and immediately felt better. "What cases?" Drew asked. Gavin's brain had gone into alert mode and he was able to think far more quickly and clearly. He reached now for memories of big cases he had heard of in the recent past. "I think one was the case where the valuable painting was stolen from a stately home in the Borders," he now replied. Drew assessed that the response had been so quick that it was probably genuine. He wasn't really pressing the boy, as he was already half convinced that he was on a wild goose chase. "Okay, let me turn to something else. Your mother was killed when you were younger. Do you have any information about who might have been responsible for her death?" Gavin was completely thrown by this sharp change in direction. He had not been anticipating the police digging up his mother's death and once again he was stabbed with a sharp jolt of fear. How close were they to knowing the truth about Nora's death? Drew picked up on the hesitation and thought that was interesting. "I was only eight, officer. I don't remember very much about what happened at all to be honest. I certainly have no idea who killed my mother or you can be sure I would have told the police long before now," Gavin lied once more. "How did you come to be adopted by the Andersons?" Drew asked. This was safer territory and Gavin felt himself relax again. "I think they went through social services. They were long term foster parents, but after a few years they asked me if I wanted to be adopted and I said yes," he replied. Drew paused. He had felt this was something of a waste of time and so it was proving. There was something niggling away at the back of his head, something about the boy's nervousness and the few little hesitations, but for once he ignored it. "Okay, I'm sorry to have taken up your time. Kenny here can give you a lift home if you like?" Drew said. "No, it's okay. I live quite close by. I'll walk if that's okay?" Gavin replied. He wanted to get away from the police as quickly as possible. ------- Chapter 20: and this is how it ends There were many arrangements to be made and things to be done if they were going to make a new life in America. Christine had to investigate job opportunities and found a bewildering range of possibilities. Visas also had to be looked into and transferring to American Colleges was another important task to be undertaken. It was this last that helped Christine narrow down her possible employment too. Gavin had gone back to Southern Utah University to explore the possibility of transferring there. The administrator had spoken to the sports faculty and they were very keen to secure Gavin. They were so keen that when it became clear the family was thinking of relocating, they helped find a number of local teaching posts that would suit Christine. Lizzie wasn't a problem with her grades and so long as Fiona did well in her highers, it was very likely that she would be able to choose the course she wanted to major in. Gavin also helped Christine put her house on the market. They had the house surveyed and fixed a price that would lead to healthy interest in the market. Work was almost completed on the final four units in St Mungo's Heights too and these would need to be sold, along with Gavin's apartment, before they left for the States. Everything was going well and it looked as if they might be able to fly to America soon after everyone had sat their exams. That would give them some months to settle in America before Gavin and the girls would start College. ------- Fraser's mobile rang and he checked the caller ID to see who it was. When he recognised Gavin's number, he thumbed the green button to connect the call. "Can you speak?" Gavin asked. "Yes, what is it?" Fraser replied. "We need to meet. There are some things we need to go over," Gavin suggested. "I still think you should leave this to me," Fraser said. "That's not going to happen. Anyway, from what you told me, this is not exactly your line of work," Gavin replied. This was a reference to Fraser's explanation of how he had basically sleepwalked into a life with the Cullen clan and how he detested what he was involved in. Gavin could see that his real father was not a man of violence and that had re-inforced his decision to be involved as the vigilante one last time. "When can you get away?" Gavin asked him now. "Now if you want," Fraser replied. ------- The meeting took place in a MacDonalds on the outskirts of town. Gavin arrived first and snagged a quiet table, ordering a big Mac meal with a large coke. Fraser arrived shortly after and joined his son, ordering the same. "You know, I'm finding it really bizarre sitting with a man who's my father but virtually a complete stranger," Gavin commented. "It's not as strange for me, I've watched you grow up after all, admittedly from a distance," Fraser replied. "We need to do this by the end of May at the latest," Gavin said now, getting down to business. "Why the timetable?" Fraser asked. "My family has decided to relocate to the US. There are too many ghosts and possible dangers for us staying here, so we're going to sell up and go," Gavin replied. He saw Fraser flinch at this news. Fraser felt as if he had been shot and wounded, Gavin's words had come as a complete surprise. He had never contemplated the idea of not being able to see his son. Now, having actually talked with him after all these years, the prospect of Gavin disappearing from his life was a cruel blow. "I'm sorry to hear that. I mean, I'm sure it's the right thing to do, but I can't pretend that I'll miss seeing you," Fraser said. "Well, why don't you come too?" Gavin asked. Fraser laughed. He thought his son was brighter than that. Didn't he know how many times he had tried to leave the clan? Didn't he know that his criminal record would mean that he would never be allowed into the States? "I don't think that's going to happen, son. There are too many hurdles that I could never get over," Fraser replied sadly. "Once we've dealt with Cullen you should be able to walk away from the clan," Gavin said now. "Yes, I suppose you could be right about that, but I'd never get a visa to stay in the US," Fraser replied. "Fraser Gilchrist might not, but Frank Bruton would," said Gavin. A large smile lit up his face as he slipped a British passport onto the table. Fraser picked up the passport and opened it up. He was stunned to see his own photo staring back at him and the name Frank Bruton underneath it. "That's why you wanted the photo?" Fraser asked. On the night they had met some weeks ago, Gavin had asked Fraser if he could take one of the pictures of him as a keepsake. Gavin had palmed the photo when he had dropped it in George's apartment, swapping Fraser's picture for his own before George endorsed the back. He had repeated his trick of researching someone who had died at a young age, but this time he had gone much further back to find someone roughly Fraser's age. "It's a genuine passport, not a forgery," Gavin advised Fraser. "You seem to be a very resourceful young man. I thought a second ago that you weren't as bright as you looked, but I can see there's no problem with your ability to think things through," Fraser said quietly. Gavin could see what he thought were tears fighting their way to Fraser's eyes. Fraser was lost for words. This was what he had wanted for more years than he could remember - a chance to break free from his criminal life, a chance to start over again and could he dare hope - a chance to be with his son? "I'm also hoping your expertise will help in moving this," Gavin said next. He pushed a number of bankbooks across the table. These were the books he had taken from Tilbury's safe and he was sure no one knew about the existence of the accounts. He explained to Fraser what they were. "But there's more than 9million pounds here!" Fraser said, stunned. "We might need a little spending money until we can get established in the US," Gavin laughed. "What about your stepmother and your sister? How are they going to react to a long lost father suddenly appearing out of the blue?" Fraser asked. It seemed just too good to be true and he was searching for the fly in the ointment. "I need to deal with that, but I don't think it will be a huge problem. I mean, you don't need to stay with us like a family - just live close enough so we can get to know each other," Gavin replied. Fraser could see the sense in that. "Now, back to our plans for Cullen and O'Reilly," Gavin said. He ran through his plan for dealing with the two gang leaders who had raped his mother. It was simple, but Fraser could see that it would work just fine. He was impressed again by how thorough his son was in his preparation and planning. The effectiveness of the vigilante wasn't such a wonder to him anymore. "Where did this vigilante thing come from anyway?" Fraser asked. "From your books of course, you know, the Sacketts," Gavin laughed. "Well you've got that all wrong! The Sacketts wouldn't have tolerated vigilantes, they supported the law. It was only when they were on the frontier that they fought fire with fire, when there were no lawmen about," Fraser said. "Well, isn't that what I've been doing?" Gavin asked. Fraser thought about that for a second before he smiled. "I suppose it is, the police certainly aren't very effective as lawmen when it comes to the Glasgow gangs." ------- Christine's house was sold by the end of January, netting her two hundred and forty thousand pounds. Gavin had suggested putting her personal things in storage, but giving up her furnishings in favour of buying everything new in America. By mid-February all of the remaining apartments had also been sold and a buyer lined up for Gavin's, once they were ready to move. The paperwork had all been completed satisfactorily for a permanent move to the US and everything was good to go. Only phase three of Gavin's plan remained to be put into effect. ------- "Sean, it's Fraser Gilchrist. Listen, Rab wants to meet," Fraser spoke into his mobile. "To talk about what?" Sean asked, suspiciously. "I think he's planning a move on Turnbull. He's been saying there's one clan too many in Glasgow, that we keep falling over each other," Fraser replied. Gavin had emphasised that they would need to use something that would be irresistible to the clan leaders if they were to have any chance of drawing them out. His bait was greed, pure and simple, greed. The carrot of additional territory, of additional income, was what was being dangled in front of them. Fraser almost held his breath waiting to see if Sean would bite. "Where and when?" Sean asked. Fraser gave the details. "One goon, no more," Fraser told him. ------- "Sean O'Reilly phoned," Fraser told Cullen. "What did the little bastard want?" Cullen growled. "He wants a meet to discuss making a move on Turnbull," Fraser dangled the bait once more. Cullen's expression changed as he was clearly thinking about the additional riches that could be gathered with one clan less in Glasgow. "Where and when? Rab asked. ------- Fraser drove up to the gates of Cullen's main base. He parked the car and went into the house to make sure Rab was ready for their meeting. "Where are you and the boss off to?" Alex asked Fraser. "I just got a tip-off about the vigilante, we're going to meet with one of the coppers we have on the payroll," Fraser replied. Cullen was ready and he followed Fraser back out to the car, taking his place in the passenger seat of the silver Mercedes. Fraser re-took his position in the driver's seat and pulled the car away from the house. The drive was made in silence. Cullen brooded on what O'Reilly was going to offer him for a joint attack on the Turnbull gang and more importantly, what he himself was willing to settle for. Twenty minutes later, Fraser pulled the Mercedes into another derelict warehouse. O'Reilly hadn't arrived as yet and Fraser parked the Merc up and they waited. Minutes later another set of headlights appeared at the opposite end of the building. "Maybe best to leave the car here and walk towards the middle," Fraser suggested. He was answered by a grunt from Cullen, but the clan boss followed him when he exited the car. In the distance they could see O'Reilly and one of his gang members exit their car and begin to walk towards them. In the trunk of the Mercedes, Gavin quickly loosened the wire he had used to keep it closed and raised it just far enough to allow himself to slip out onto the floor of the warehouse. He was dressed all in black and had his ski mask in place. He used the deep shadows of the warehouse and his own skills to glide fluidly into the position he had chosen for himself. "How are you, Sean?" Cullen barked. "Well, Rab, I'm doing well," O'Reilly replied. Before anyone could say anything else and expose the ruse that Fraser had used to get them here, Gavin exploded into action. He covered the last ten yards in the blink of an eye and Sean O'Reilly's goon was falling in a heap from a blow to the back of his head before anyone could react. Fraser had been expecting Gavin's appearance, but even he was shocked at the sheer speed and efficiency with which his son moved. With the goon on the floor, Gavin used one of his martial arts techniques to control the situation. He let loose a paralysing Qi scream of FREEZE!, the 'life-force' coming from his very centre. Fraser found himself as startled as Cullen and O'Reilly and before any of them could move, Gavin had them covered with the heavy Browning. "Well what do we have here?" Gavin asked rhetorically. "Rab Cullen, Sean O'Reilly and Fraser Gilchrist. I think the only one missing is Steve Miller. Oh! Stupid me, of course I've already killed Steve! Now, what could you three and Steve Miller all have in common?" Gavin stared at both Cullen and O'Reilly but got no response. To give them their due, Rab and Sean weren't panicking. "Oh, I know - Nora MacSween! Yes, that's right, you all knew Nora MacSween didn't you? "No comment gentlemen? "When I say 'knew' Nora MacSween I did mean of course in the biblical sense." Gavin watched as both Cullen and O'Reilly glanced furtively at Fraser. "Fraser, search them both please and remove any weapons they might have. Don't get between them and me, I want to have a clear target at all times in case these two fine gentlemen decide to do something stupid," said Gavin. Fraser quickly frisked both of the gang leaders and came away with two pistols. "What the fuck is going on Gillie!" demanded Cullen, "don't listen to this bastard. You know he's already hit seven of our guys - I take it that you are the vigilante?" he asked, staring at Gavin now. "Brain as well as brawn, how refreshing! I'm afraid your pleas to Mr Gilchrist aren't going to help you Mr Cullen. You see, I was there when you raped Nora MacSween - and I watched you too!" Gavin's eyes now bored into Sean O'Reilly. O'Reilly wasn't looking as comfortable any more. He knew how many the vigilante had killed and he didn't feel as invincible as he normally did as the head of one of Glasgow's gangs. "You're talking shite!" Cullen shouted. "Am I? I'm the son of Nora MacSween and Fraser Gilchrist and I've got a message for you from Nora, Mr Cullen. Rot in hell!" The Browning boomed and Cullen was knocked off of his feet, a bullet having entered his gut and nicked his spine on its way out of his body. Gavin smiled evilly as he heard Cullen groaning in agony. "I believe that's an old western custom - to gut shoot your victim so he suffers the maximum pain," said Gavin winking at Fraser. "So, let's just remember how it was. Steve Miller, Rab Cullen and Sean O'Reilly decide to have a little 'fun' with Fraser Gilchrist's girl. Only Miller is so much of a sadistic bastard that he strangles Nora while he's fucking her arse!" With that reference both O'Reilly and the gut-shot Cullen were no longer in any doubt that the vigilante had witnessed what happened that day. How else could he know that Miller had been the one? How else could he know that Steve Miller had strangled Nora while his cock was up her ass? O'Reilly recognised his time was up and he made to jump Gavin. Gavin easily sidestepped the attack and clubbed Sean as he passed him. Gavin was in the zone again and he could easily have killed O'Reilly, but he was focussed and relaxed, letting the adrenaline feed and reward his nervous system. He needed O'Reilly to be shot by a gun other than the Browning and he was confident enough to merely use his weapon to knock the other man unconscious. Fraser was impressed once more by his son's skills and he was somewhat at a loss as to what to do next, his head was still spinning. "Help me move this bastard!" Gavin called. ------- Drew and Kenny pulled into the warehouse in their Ford Mondeo and Kenny parked it off to the side of the scrum that seemed to have developed. They both exited the car and walked to where the action was centred. The smell of a recently extinguished fire hung in the air and there was a Strathclyde Fire Brigade appliance inside the warehouse. Drew and Kenny forced their way through the crowd to see what all the excitement was about. A blackened Mercedes was visible beyond the tape that had been set up and it looked as if there was a body in the driver's seat. Beyond that, some fifty yards away, they could see another taped off crime scene. The forensics people were already all over the place and the two detectives simply watched for a while as the activity buzzed around them. Drew recognised the lead forensics officer and called him over. "What have we got?" he asked. "Difficult to say without the analysis," the techie replied. "Okay, okay, I'm not going to go to court with what you can give me! Tell me what it looks like!" demanded Drew. "Fine. It looks like the Mercedes drove in this end. The driver is whacked where he sits, shot through the windscreen, and a petrol bomb is thrown in as insurance. The shooter and another man meet further up the warehouse. They exchange shots, killing each other." "Anything else of interest at this stage?" Drew asked. "One of the shooters is wearing a ski mask and he used a Browning. The gun is here," the forensic expert said. The mention of the ski mask and the Browning really had MacIntosh interested. When he walked to the second crime scene he recognised Rab Cullen immediately. The figure wearing the ski mask was the main object of his attention however. This was the man he had been hunting. "Take the fucking mask off!" he demanded. One of the techies glanced at his boss for guidance, not wanting to contaminate evidence. He received a nod to tell him to comply with the request and he pulled the ski mask off of the dead body. "Oh shit!" Drew exclaimed, as he recognised Sean O'Reilly. ------- Three days later the forensic results came through and Drew tried to knit together the evidence with the other material that had been gathered over the past few days. The Browning lying at O'Reilly's side was confirmed as the weapon that had killed Cullen and the driver of the Merc. It was also confirmed as the weapon used in what were thought to be the other vigilante hits. O'Reilly's body had surgical gloves on the hands, but powder residue confirmed that he had fired the gun. O'Reilly's body had several rounds in it from the pistol that had been found beside Cullen. Cullen's prints were on the pistol found beside his body and again powder residue confirmed that he had fired the gun. The burnt out Merc seemed to contain the body of Fraser Gilchrist. Several members of the Cullen clan, as well as several traffic cameras that had recorded the Merc's final journey had confirmed him as the driver. The body was too badly burned to confirm the identification. The forensic report tried to describe what might have happened. O'Reilly is the vigilante and he had somehow drawn out Cullen and Gilchrist. The Cullen clan had confirmed that Rab and Gilchrist had left for a meeting on something to do with the vigilante. The original thoughts of the forensic team were confirmed. The vigilante had shot Gilchrist, and as insurance had tossed a petrol bomb into the car. Fragments of the bottle had been found and they had O'Reilly's fingerprints on them, and traces of petrol had been found on O'Reilly's hand after the gloves were removed. The body in the Merc was too badly burned to help with identification, but was believed to be Gilchrist. The vigilante had then somehow got the drop on Cullen. Cullen had been able to get to his gun though and both of them had killed each other. The Browning was definitely the vigilante's gun. Traces of petrol had been found in the trunk of the BMW indicating that some kind of incendiary device had been kept there. Another thing that had been found in O'Reilly's car was a passbook from Glen Tilbury's house, linking O'Reilly to that killing too. So it seemed that O'Reilly was the vigilante and his last two victims were Rab Cullen and Fraser Gilchrist. ------- Fraser watched the news reports from a hotel room in Manchester. He had helped as Gavin made the final moves in his phase three of his plan. The unconscious goon was hoisted onto Gavin's shoulders and carried to the Merc. Gavin had placed him carefully in the driver's seat. He had then raced back and hoisted the unconscious O'Reilly and carried him to the Mercedes too. Once at the car, Gavin 'helped' Sean fire a round from the Browning through the windscreen to kill the goon who was now in the Merc and then carried O'Reilly back up the warehouse and dropped him close to Cullen. He had then siphoned petrol from O'Reilly's car into a bottle and rubbed the bottle on the carpet in the car's trunk. Once he had traces of the petrol planted, Gavin placed the bottle in Sean's hand to pick up his fingerprints and set it aside. He pulled surgical gloves onto O'Reilly's hands and forced the Browning into one of them, 'helping' Sean fire another shot from the gun to put Cullen out of his misery, before dropping the Browning at O'Reilly's side. Fraser had handed over the pistol he had removed from Cullen and watched Gavin wipe all traces of his prints from it. He had placed the pistol in the dead Cullen's hand and fired off two rounds, killing O'Reilly and ensuring that there would be powder residue on Cullen's hand to confirm he had fired the gun. Gavin had dropped a passbook inside Sean's car and then picked up the petrol bomb and ran back to the Mercedes and torched the car. He had shouted at Fraser to follow out of the warehouse as quickly as possible. Gavin's van was parked several streets away and they had driven off before the smoke and flames from the burning Merc were obvious. Now, watching the news, Fraser admired his son's work. The reports were naming Sean O'Reilly as the vigilante and claiming his motivation was all about trying to take over all of Glasgow. It was bizarre and somewhat unnerving for Fraser to listen to the report of his own death in the incident in the warehouse. He picked up the passport that Gavin had given him and tried to reconcile himself to the fact that from now on he was Frank Bruton. ------- Several hundred miles North of Manchester, Gavin, Christine and the girls were also watching the news. The report on the death of the vigilante obviously gave Christine, Fiona and Lizzie some idea that Gavin had been involved in this latest incident. They didn't know what to make of it however, and Gavin was about to tell them a little more. A picture of Sean O'Reilly appeared on the TV screen while a voice described him as the vigilante. "He was one of the men who raped my mother," Gavin told them. Another picture appeared on the TV, this time of Rab 'the tram' Cullen. "He was the third man who raped my mother. He was also the man who ordered Glen's death," he said. Christine and the girls gasped at this latest revelation. "I'm glad," said Christine eventually, "I can live with this if it really is the vigilante's last stand." ------- Drew felt that things were just too pat. Information from the streets already suggested that O'Reilly couldn't possibly have carried out some of the vigilante attacks - numerous witnesses placed him elsewhere when some of them had happened. He was worried that petrol had been found on O'Reilly's hand and fingerprints were on the glass from the petrol bomb. That was completely contrary to the perfect approach of the vigilante up until this final incident, it seemed amateurish. As he sat contemplating these remaining questions, his Chief Constable entered his office and crossed to shake his hand. "Well done Drew. So many murders solved in one swoop! That will do wonders for my statistics and help with next year's budget. Consider yourself in my good books!" The Chief Constable swept from the room again shortly afterwards and Drew was left feeling cynical. "That's what it all comes down to! Stats showing a successful rate in solving crimes and what that means for the forces' budget! Whatever happened to justice and catching the bad guys?" He sighed, there were just too many cases to try and solve. With his Chief Constable's praise ringing in his ears, he turned his attention at last away from the vigilante. ------- Fraser prepared himself for passport control at Manchester airport. While he believed what Gavin had told him, he was still extremely nervous about using the document. He needn't have bothered, as he was passed through security with barely a look. Once in the departure lounge he found a seat and contemplated a new life. Gavin had supplied the necessary passwords to make it easy to shift Tilbury's money from the offshore accounts. It was clean money; no one was looking for it at all. He had also taken the opportunity to move four million pounds from the Cullen clan, using his usual methods. No one other than Rab Cullen had any idea about the clan's funds and he knew that he was free and easy with that money too. "Thirteen million between us - unlucky for some!" he laughed to himself. ------- Gavin, Christine and the girls managed to make their way through the tough entry procedures and into America! They huddled together around the baggage reclaim, waiting for their luggage to arrive. Gavin had thought about e-mailing Jamie Wiggins, but decided against it. The electronic screens showed that a flight from Manchester had also just landed. He looked round and then exclaimed. "Frank! Frank!" "Who is that?" asked Christine. "Oh, somebody I know from the university book club. He's a real Western lover," said Gavin. "I didn't know you liked Westerns," said Fiona. "I'll always be a romantic, and the frontier is where I long to be!" Gavin laughed. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2008-03-23 Last Modified: 2008-04-14 / 04:25:04 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------